Paz’s problems started with a stiletto.
“Oh I’m sorry…” the endlessly leggy Ms. de la Huerta cooed, or rather warbled, to The Observer. We were standing with her at a Playboy party, under the High Line, and with one shoestrap broken she leaned on us, palms flung around the nape of our neck. She had given a reading that night from Madame Bovary, during which she crossed and uncrossed her legs and cradled the hardback in her forearm. She was not wearing any underwear. It was October.
It would be a few cold months before we again found ourselves in the presence of Ms. de la Huerta, this time at the Top of the Standard. The casket-sized smoking deck affixed to the Boom Boom Room smashes you with the other nicotine freaks, making collision inevitable. Vertigo, too–feet are forced to stand precariously on a glass ceiling, the cobblestoned Meatpacking streets miles below. Paz was there. She was a silhouette in the smoke. Red lipstick, an outline of her sash, arms dangling inert at her sides. She was having a Champagne and swayed until leaning on the wall. It was probably not her first glass.
“Ohhhh, wowwww…” she hummed as we approached her. Conversation was metered in sighs.
Then last Sunday, in that same golden canopy of the Standard Hotel, Ms. de la Huerta peaked. After reality show star Samantha Swetra accused her of being drunk, the actress famous for being just that hurled a cocktail and clocked Ms. Swetra square in the nose, Gatecrasher first reported. Lindsay Lohan was on hand to pluck shards out of the victim’s leg.
Closure will come after Ms. de la Huerta appears in court April 18–TMZ confirmed that Ms. Swetra filed a police report this morning–but her image has already been altered for good, and for the better. Could this be a return to the pre-recession spree of catfights and punch-outs? Such antics have been missing from the lives of our idols. Perhaps they could be back.
Either way, this news confirms that Paz de la Huerta is the most gloriously fascinating American celebrity we have left.
