You're Courtney Love and you've somehow managed to wrangle an interview with no less than The New York Times. You've got an agenda: it's time to rehabilitate your trainwreck image and promote your keen interest in being known as a fashion icon.
So naturally you ask the writer to wait in your hotel room before you burst in completely naked, make a lap around the room, then demand the writer help you into a pair of Givenchy heels before you accompany him through the lobby with your breasts exposed.
Oh, but first you shove your feet, shoes and all, through a pair of pink underwear you say cost $4,000.
I think if this story was about any other celebrity I would find the details cringeworthy, but there's just something about Courtney Love that's like a cockroach. I don't mean she's repulsive, I mean she seems utterly indestructible. She just barrels along, freak flag flying high (literally) at all times. Through every bizarre stage—scary-skinny, surgically altered, slobbery on Twitter—you get the sense that at the end of the day, Courtney Love can take care of Courtney Love. It might not be pretty, but she somehow doesn't have the same tragic whiff of helpless impending doom that some starlets seem to.
The New York Times writer, Eric Wilson, went on to conduct that interview, and despite the naked hotel room incident, he was quite kind.
Our conversation stretched on for more than five hours, during which time Ms. Love demonstrated, as is widely acknowledged, a keen intelligence and a remarkable understanding of the fashion industry, both about its history and the way things work today. She came across as calm, funny, and well read.
The next night, Courtney sent him a series of text messages, blaming her behavior on a combination of Zoloft and a cocktail. She also wrote,
I'm so humiliated. That simply isn't me. It has been, but I haven't been such a mess for quite some time. I trust you understand that our hearts can take us all to dark and ill timed places.
I sort of get it, really. And I think Courtney Love can be counted on to go back to those places time and time again, and emerge mostly unscathed.
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