The time has come again for me to guide you psychos out of the darkness of illiteracy and into the light of knowledge. Here’s what I’m reading this month:
The Beautiful Fall: Fashion, Genius, and Glorious Excess in 1970’s Paris by Alicia Drake
There is nothing about this title that I don’t love/connect with. It’s pretty much an entire book about Yves St. Laurent and Karl Lagerfeld being total cunts to each other. Obsession.
Fifty Shades Darker by EL James
The second book of the Fifty Shades Trilogy. A must-read, especially if you’re single, or if you’re attached and unhappy. In addition to being a stellar novel, this book is also great for leaving on your boyfriend’s bed, with certain pages dog-eared and strategically highlighted. Like the part where Christian fucks Ana on his yacht, or the part where he tells her he makes $100,000 an hour.
I Can Make You Hot!: The Supermodel Diet by Kelly Killoren Bensimon
Kelly is a clearly a nutcase, but I couldn’t resist reading this book. Basically if you want to live inside her head for a few hours, hear about her HOT philosophy and other ramblings, then feel like you’ve not only totally lost your appetite but also your mind, read this.
My Extraordinary Ordinary Life by Sissy Spacek
This is a no-brainer. Yes, I want to hear about Badlands, and Carrie and EVERYTHING SISSY’S EVER DONE. Plus, having written my own memoir, I feel that it’s important to support other celebrities that talk about themselves.
Party Monster: A Fabulous But True Tale of Murder in Clubland by James St. James
I read this book in 1999 when it had been published as Disco Bloodbath, and it’s been ages since I’ve watched the movie, so now I feel like I need a revisit. For someone who’s done enough drugs to kill a whole stable of horses, James St. James is an amazing writer. If you’re into dark shit, this is the book for you.
I Shop, Therefore I Am: Compulsive Buying and the Search for Self by April Lane Benson
My rehab therapist, Jackson, sent me this book last week. Kind of unclear on what exactly he’s getting at with that gift, so I sent him a series of portraits entitled “Babe In Repose,” which were basically just pictures of me lying on the floors, couches, and jewelry counters of all my favorite stores on Rodeo Drive. Think Tom Ford, Miu Miu, YSL, etc. I’m hoping one of you psychos will read this book and tell me what it’s about, because honestly I can’t even look at the cover without trembling.
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