An Italian circuit court ruled Friday that reporting gossip in Italy will be illegal "unless it helps make a larger point about the figure in question." The new rules will "apply only to television, print and radio media." Whoa, and this is the country that gave us the word 'paparazzi.' [Hollywood Reporter]
What wealthy Park Avenue power couple's marriage is ending because the husband announced he was leaving his cosmetics heiress wife for another man who may or may not be a French architect?
Chicago's "Empower Public Relations" firm has banned gossip from its office. The owner, Sam Chapman, has fired three gossipers so far, says "GMA." Chapman has been promoting the hell out of this policy and sending out press releases about it. Also, apparently all of the employees eat lunch together in some sort of sad "break room" because they are poor and live in Chicago. (Fake! So fake!)
That little stretch of Lafayette where New York pretends to be L.A. was buzzing last night as strike-fearing actors packed into Butter. Says our spy, "Two stars from '30 Rock,' Kristina Bowen and Lonny Ross, were like, 'Um we are pretty much screwed. We have one more shooting script and that's It.' Lance Bass tried to join in on the convo, asking 'Wait does this affect talk shows....' His nose in person reminds me of Peter Pan. Plastic surgery is NOT his friend." But the biggest celeb in attendance was the Butterscotch Stallion himself, 'Darjeeling Express' star Owen Wilson, accompanied only by "a PR lady and two bodyguards." "He left in under 30 mins. It was a bit of a buzz killer—everyone was like 'Gasp—that's the Wilson brother who tried to kill himself.' It was such an odd reaction. Why is he going out anyway, you know?" To promote 'not being dead,' one assumes.
The gossip from Frankfurt, where international rights to books are bought and sold during a traditionally ribald and booze-sodden week every October, is beginning to trickle in as the fair draws to a close. It is all lame. There's no "big book" this year, only a "big story" about the dissolution of British agency PFD, whose 85 employees simultaneously quit, leaving clients like Ruth Rendell unmoored. FSG editor Lorin Stein, who, according to our inbox, is a "notoriously arch shithead" and a "boat-shoe wearing schmuck," let Times book lady Motoko Rich follow him around as he played hooky from the fair to pick apples in the Rhine Valley and attended dinners that found him "carving slabs of pork ribs and sampling the local apple wine. ('It's wretched,' he declared after the first sip.)" Something interesting must have happened, though, at the notorious Canongate party?
Good stories we've heard: "At Jeffrey Toobin's book party the other night, I watched David Remnick ball up a piece of fried shrimp in a napkin and throw it on the floor. He's totally over it."
Good stories we've heard: "Okay, so Meredith Melling Burke —you know, she's Anna Wintour's #2 at Vogue?—is going around telling this story. She has a house in Nantucket, right? And one night she and her friend decide to have a contest. They're going to go to a bar and see who can get the most townies' phone numbers. Meredith totally wins. And then later her husband finds all the numbers and he's, like, sooooo mad."
I'm Evelyn Nussenbaum. It's not an existential question. But in case you're wondering where the lovely and talented Owen Thomas has gone, the answer is Hawaii. With his spouse. Leaving me to fill his extremely large (but stylish) shoes. So who am I? The short answer is that I am a refugee from the late, great Business 2.0 Magazine—ok the October issue is coming out, but it's the last one. This is a collector's item, people! But my stint at the New York Post is probably the most relevant to Valleywag. OK, I was a business reporter, but I sat next to Keith Kelly and across from the King of All Gossip Columnists Richard Johnson—something must have rubbed off. I'll report, you decide. And you don't need to see a picture of me—I look fabulous, especially sitting here in my pj's.
"Is Halle Berry pregnant?" has basically been a recurring article in celeb weeklies since their covers featured Ava Gardner and Frank Sinatra, so it took a while for us to wrap our minds around the idea that this time, Halle Berry is really actually, truly, up the stick. "Yes, I am three months pregnant! Gabriel and I are beyond excited, and I've waited a long time for this moment in life. Now the next seven months will be the longest of my life!" she told Access Hollywood last night. God, of all of our lives. (Plus, uh, ten months of gestation certainly sounds like too much to us!) So what will Halle call the long-awaited bundle? We're liking "Ivy F." (Or maybe Holly?) Thoughts? [Image via Splash News]
We're still obsessing over that Ben Widdicombe blind item: "Which very senior Manhattan media executive looks like he might be about to go public with that office affair everyone has been talking about?" You know what we keep forgetting about? Conde Nast CEO Charles Townsend is in divorce proceedings in a Miami-Dade court. The Herald doesn't list a cause for the filing. He used to work with his wife at Family Circle! (Also we forget that he's a commodore of New York Yacht Club! Bwa.) Now that is something even less than circumstantial evidence if we've ever seen it. But don't men always make the same mistake twice? [Miami Herald]
Very slight forward movement on a recent blind item: Remember gossipboy Ben Widdicombe's "Which very senior Manhattan media executive looks like he might be about to go public with that office affair everyone has been talking about?" Well, think Conde Nast. That's as far as we've gotten—but we're not letting this one go.
