On Thursday night one of the parties held in Scottsdale was put on by 944 Magazine - one of those glossy lifestyle dealies aimed the 18-40 set (they do not publish in Boston currently, but based on their rate of expansion, I wouldn't be surprised if they showed up soon) with lots and lots of ads for things like Hummers and watches and other stuff that I don't buy. The most recent issue features a scantily clad Paris Hilton on the cover, which is why Ms. Hilton was playing host to their anniversary bash on Thursday night. Part of why I’m out here is to cover the party scene and, after getting credentialed, I thought it might be interesting to see what goes on at a red carpet event, something I (and, I’m guessing, most of you) have never experienced.
Press check-in was at 6:00, which basically involved staking out a decent spot on the red carpet and standing around. I arrived on time, because I’m punctual like that, and got a decent swath of real estate near the front. The big headline performer at this event was rapper 50 Cent – along with some d.j.’s.
I cannot begin to describe how unbelievably boring it is waiting around on a red carpet for famous people to show up. A lot of our coverage out here has involved arriving at an event (press conference, Media Day) and waiting for it to start, but it was two hours before anyone of note arrived on scene. This is not the life for me.
The other Professional Celebrity Photographers, it seemed, were in agreement on that assessment. I don’t know if there’s a secret handshake or what, but it was pretty obvious I didn’t belong there. I also asked a lot of dumb questions, because I was curious how things work. I mean, heck, one of the photographers was sporting a pencil-thin mustache. Like I could ever pull that off.
I was credentialed, but a couple of other non-credentialed people were able to sneak into the photographer area. One older gentlemen with an Eastern European accent was giddy at being in an area he Was Not Allowed and he kept slapping people on the behind in excitement. I told him I would make him a deal: if he did not in any way touch my bum I would not alert security to his presence.
Once celebrities did start arriving, things got a bit more interesting. More photographers showed up – and there was a lot of jostling and arguing about where to be. I don’t know if this is how it works, but my feeling is that if someone arrives on time to an event to stake out a spot to do one’s job, than that person should be able to keep their spot. During one particularly heated exchange between two photographers (one of them was standing behind and kept shoving the guy who arrived early out of the way to get his shots in a way that I would describe as “on the rude side”) I asked if fights ever broke out on the carpet.
“YES!!” they both replied in unison. Then they both explained to me why the other one was the worst person ever.
A crowd gathered behind us as People of Note began to arrive, and one of them shouted “Paparazzi Rock!”, causing the entire group to spin around angrily and explain that they are not paparazzi – paparazzi chase people around. This seems to be a big point of contention with red carpet photographers.
The crowd had cell phone cameras in tow, and were constantly asking us when Paris was arriving. I’m going to come clean here and say that while I would be legitimately star-struck if I were to meet anyone involved in any with the television show “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, Public Radio’s Ira Glass, or Kermit the Frog – I did not care about any of the people showing up at this red carpet event. People involved in “extreme” sports, rich reality-t.v. heiresses, Terrell Owens (who, it should be noted, did not cry on the red carpet), and rappers who have been shot more times than I have managed to eat a meal on this trip.
Think about it: I don’t know how much Paris Hilton charges to appear at these events (she denies reports that in Vegas it’s $500,000), but the 944 Super Village obviously paid her something to host this event, and myself and my media brethren all showed up to dutifully snap photos, and then I write about it in my blog, and 944 magazine gets publicity, thereby justifying Hilton’s fee, which she can then charge at another event. Repeat. Cue “The Circle of Life” song from “The Lion King” and then
go look at the pictures I took. I know that the photos aren't professional-celebrity-photographer caliber, but once my pencil-thin mustache grows in I'm hoping that won't matter as much.
Kevin
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