What’s New, Pussycat?

I wonder what life would be like if I were a Pussycat Doll.

This is what went through my mind as I stood behind my cameraman, singing along as the glammed-up girl group, wearing towering heels and black spandex, booty-popped and hair-tossed their way through the catchy question, “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?” Their performance on the last night of L.A. fashion week followed a runway show of new Pussycat Dolls lingerie so tiny that at first I thought it was designed for actual pussy cats.  But, no. There were attractive,  willowy human females who modeled the bras, panties, hoodies, and garter-belt dangling micro-minis that I could possibly squeeze into if I did back-to-back stints on “Survivor” as well as my personal reality show: “Your High School Reunion Is In Two Weeks and It’s a Pool Party!”

Fortunately, when I was assigned to cover the lingerie launch, I could proudly boast to my boss, “You are sending the right girl because I watched ‘The Search for the Next Pussycat Doll’ and can say with confidence that I have found my inner doll”.  There was silence on the other end of the phone, so I decided not to tell her that I secretly hoped the record company would open up auditions for those of us past approaching the sexy song-and-dance act expiration date. I think there could be a market for a group of sassy, successful gals sporting Spanx, Aerosoles, and body-hugging costumes made entirely of Calcium patches.  We could sing ”Don’t cha wish your girlfriend had life-experience like me? Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was well-read like me? Don’t cha?”

Perhaps it was too late to live the dream, but there were more immediate accomplishments to focus on, such as catching up to P.Diddy who had just arrived backstage with Dr. Dre.  It was Pussycat pandemonium as I nudged my way through the throngs and thongs.  The charismatic Diddy evoked squeals of delight from the cast of the PCD second-season reality series, “Girlicious”, who giddily asked the Hip-Hop hyphenate to pose for a photo.  This was fortuitous because it got him to slow down long enough for me to thrust out my microphone and ask two event-related questions - all while security hovered and tried to shoo us away.  Phew! I, and my inner Pushy-cat Doll, broke a sweat on that one, but I got the soundbites I needed.

Meantime, the crowd clamored to congratulate Pussycat Dolls founder and lingerie designer Robin Antin who has successfully applied the PCD brand to make-up, dolls, television productions, a Las Vegas lounge, and a jewelry line. Now, the lingerie collection, called “Shhh”, is no longer a secret – Victoria’s or otherwise. No angel wings on this runway, just devilish little underthings that require a boatload of body confidence and a lifetime’s supply of Nair.

I conducted a few more interviews and headed home to the solitude of my studio apartment. I unzipped my faux patent- leather boots, removed my red newsboy cap, and piled on the moisturizer and comfy sweats.  I munched on low-calorie multi-grain crackers wishing I had some melted chocolate to dip them in to make them seem less like cardboard.  (In fact, I really couldn’t taste the difference between the product and the packaging.)

Well, friends, I think I’m me-owt of here. It’s time to visit the make-up aisles of Walgreen’s to see if there are any new shades of beigey-pink lip gloss.  I also have to stop by the newstand to load up on the week’s reading material covering everything from what’s happening on Capitol Hill in D.C. to what’s happening on “The Hills” with LC.

I will be back soon with more tales from the nearly-naked city!