Katy Perry, a minister’s daughter from California, kissed a girl, liked it,
wrote a song about it and became the biggest pop sensation of the past year.
Well, second biggest. I wonder if she lies in bed at night grinding her fist
into her palm and muttering: “One of these days, Lady Gaga, one of these
days.” Anyway, it took Perry years of graft to make it big, though she still
felt the rush of overnight success. This time last year, she was a nobody
living in LA, who spent her days pretending to be Doris Day and trading
vintage clothes for “better vintage clothes” at thrift shops. The day we
meet, she’s wearing a polka-dot Thierry Mugler cocktail dress from 1992,
which — the girls in the Style office gravely inform me — is a sure sign of
success. As is the fact we’re also in Cannes, having tea in the lobby of the
Carlton hotel while her entourage and various gooey-eyed fans look on from
nearby tables.
» full story
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