MEMOIR

My Idols and My Boobs

The Day I Met Duran Duran

He’s staring at my nipples, I thought. Oh my God, he’s staring at my nipples!

Well, they were front and center. It was the nineties after all. There I was in my tight little light blue polyester top and thin black scarf face to face with at least two of the men who graced my walls, my teenage dreams, and my youthful fantasies. Ah, there they were — Simon Le Bon with his ice-blue eyes and Nick Rhodes, who was as graceful and Warholian as one would imagine.

Like many Los Angelenos who worked in the entertainment industry, I normally didn’t give much of a hoo-ha when it came to celebrity visitors to our CNN-Los Angeles bureau. There were only three that I went out of my way to see: Rob Reiner — who was interviewing for Showbiz Today in our newsroom. I walked around the floor in circles in hopes that he would discover me sort of like how old Hollywood broads would be discovered in a soda shop. But CNN was no Schwab’s and I was no Marilyn Monroe. Reiner did not discover me despite my repeated trips through the newsroom; Richard Simmons—who was in for an interview with Larry King. I worked the teleprompter and sang show tunes with him. It was amazing; and last, but certainly not least, Duran Duran.

I lost my shit when I found out Duran Duran was coming to the Bureau. Because of my obsession, I got special permission to sit in on the interview and accompany them to the green room.

When they arrived, I sashayed through the reception doors ready to claim my prize. Donna, the receptionist who hated me, sized me up and down as she usually did and muttered under her breath the loving pet name she assigned to me.

“Trick.”

But I didn’t care. With a bright smile and a shimmy, I introduced myself with the kind of confidence that could only come from a manic, cocky twenty-something wanna-be actress.

“Hi! I’m Kristi! Welcome to CNN!”

Pause.

“Follow me!”

Like an awkward teenager on the catwalk for the first time, I led the pack through the halls toward the green room.

A little wiggle in the hips. Chest forward. Standing straight. Bright smile. I am KiKi. I am Princess Kristina. I can do anything. I can be anything.

The green room was tiny. We squeezed in as the cameramen continued to get things just right. We were joined by the producer and another chick from the library. For the first time, I was able to turn around and breathe. Really take in who was in front of me, not behind me, and this was my moment. This was my moment to finally meet Simon and Nick from Duran Duran. I was sad John Taylor was no longer in the band at that time as he was my favorite, but still! Simon and Nick! I’d written pages upon pages of teenage fan fiction about them.

As I turned around, Simon’s eyes went straight to my chest.

It was not in a subtle way. He started talking to me while his eyes were on…my eyes. (Ew.)

He’s staring at my nipples, I thought. Oh my God, he’s staring at my nipples!

“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

Jesus, Mary, and Jehoshaphat, he’s talking to me!

“Kristi. It’s so nice to meet you,” I gushed.

I was starting to lose my cool confidence. Quickly. And that’s when I blurted it.

“You got me through my puberty!”

What the fuh? He just looked through me for a moment. His eyes met my real eyes but they gazed directly through.

“Are you an actress or something?”

“Yes!” I nearly screamed.

“Do you have a headshot?”

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Simon Le Bon is asking for my headshot! Maybe they’ll put me in a video! Should I put my phone number on the back? What do I do? The interview is about to start….

“Yes?”

“Well, go get it. I’d like to have it.”

I don’t even think I answered him. I sprinted out the door heading to my office which was on the other side of the floor. It would cause an asthma attack since I have the stamina of a snail, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to miss the interview either, but Jesus.

If Simon Le Bon asks for your headshot, you run and get your headshot! If Simon Le Bon wants to talk at your boobs, you let him talk at your boobs.

Look, normally I’d be offended. I’d say something smart and sassy. My tough broad would come out. But these were my childhood idols.

I arrived back at the green room (wheezing) (not very sexily) just as the interview was beginning. When it was over, I handed Simon my headshot (with phone number on the back), and told him and Nick what a good interview it was. (Dumb Ki, dumb ki!) Nick just looked at my photo and said, “pretty.”

When it was time to take a picture together, Simon snuggled in next to me and I felt his hand squeeze me around the waist tightly.

I could not breathe. I could not move. Simon Le Bon had his arm wrapped around me. I could smell him. And Nick Rhodes was talking to me about creative shit. This was a dream!

And just like that, it was done and they were quickly leaving.

And just like that, they were gone.

Not long after that, I saw them once again — poolside in their bikinis at The Four Seasons Hotel. And…it was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. It wasn’t that they looked bad or anything. It was just so awkward.

And just like that, the magic was gone.

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