INT. The BEDROOM of a “coolster” apartment in the East Village neighborhood of New York City. NIGHT.
“Boys Want To Be Her” plays in the background while CHLOE DESCARNIN gets dressed. Tonight is the opening reception of her newest work at a hip downtown art gallery. At first the camera FOCUSES on a pile of magazines, then specifically on an issue of Black magazine; CHLOE is on the cover. The camera PULLS BACK and shows CHLOE’s whole room. Three BRICK WALLS, a low WIRE FRAME BED, an eight foot tall MIRROR, a VANITY and a GLASS CURTAIN WALL that looks out to Astor Pl. It’s all very urban chic. Clothes are thrown everywhere and you can tell that CHLOE is hunting for the perfect outfit.
Everybody in New York knows CHLOE DESCARNIN. A classic beauty of African-American/French heritage, 25 years old, she’s the kind of artist who is as at home in the art world as she is in pop culture and the “hip” downtown scene. CHLOE has been a sensation ever since her last piece, “Chloe Descarnin: Sale,” a 30-minute performance inspired by FELIX GONZALEZ-TORRES where the gallery was set up like a luxury boutique, and the audience could take home free couture by ALEXANDER MCQUEEN, BALENCIAGA and BALMAIN.
CHLOE struts out of the BATHROOM to show ZANDER WEST, her gay best friend, the new pants she just got. ZANDER, 24 years old, helps CHLOE get ready for the big night.
CHLOE: Zanny, darling, do these harem pants make me look fat? I just got them from Stella—she let me keep the pants from that shoot I did.
ZANDER: Honey, don’t you know that you have to eat to get fat?
CHLOE: (Sighs) I’m serious! You know that tonight’s the big night—all of New York will be there. I need to look fabulous.
ZANDER: If I were you, I wouldn’t be so worried about looking fat. I’d try not to look like Jasmine the damn Princess of Arabia in them genie pants! Sometimes, I don’t get fashion. I really don’t …
CHLOE moves around the room, holding on to the edge of her harem pants to emphasize the billowiness.
CHLOE: Well what if I wear this sequin blouse? It’s McQueen …
CHLOE shows the blouse. ZANDER nods in approval.
ZANDER: You know what I always say—the more you look like a drag queen, the better.
CHLOE: Oh fuck you!
ZANDER: Love you back, bitch. Girl, I’m so glad I’ma get to be your date tonight. It is gonna be… a-mah-zing. (ZANDER walks over to the mirror, checks himself out). A night of fabulous diamonds, fabulous limousines, fabulous cameras, and fabulous mens. What more is there to life? Chile, just promise you won’t pull a Man Hunt and ditch me the second a hot guy with a big stick starts breathing down your face. (He SNAPS) Don’t make me read your sparkly ass in front of all of New York City …
CHLOE: Wooooooooo!! (Laughs hysterically) Can you imagine the story on Page Six? “Glamazon Gets Bashed By Gay BFF”
ZANDER: I’m just sayin …
CHLOE goes over to her IPOD STATION to change the music. She puts on “The Fame” by Lady Gaga. She and ZANDER start dancing around the bedroom as CHLOE goes back into the BATHROOM to finish her makeup.
ZANDER: (Surprised, as if he forgot something). Girl, I forgot to tell you about my date last night! Let me give you the tea!
CHLOE: (From the BATHROOM) Oh I want all the deets! Was he hot? Did he have bad breath like your last blind date? You know I do not do a bad breath.
ZANDER: (Disgusted) Uh, don’t remind me. That trollop’s breath was so bad it smelled like ass and raw eggs. Now how yo’ breath gon’ smell like somethin’ you ain’t even eat? Woo lawd—you just reminded me the taste (smacks lips) …
ZANDER walks over to the bathroom to stand in the doorway while CHLOE puts on her blush.
CHLOE: Alright, so where did you meet this one? FabulousGayTops.com?
CHLOE: I’m serious, Zanny. You don’t need online dating. You’re successful, damn near picture perfect, and everybody envies you. Meeting people on line sounds like a total disaster. People tell all types of lies online.
CHLOE: So did you sleep with him!
ZANDER: Not on the first date! I mean I do want to get laid, and I do, um, fantasize about every dude I see, but that’s all fantasy. (SNAPS) I-am-a classy bitch, okay? Ion just drop trou for any and everythang that comes ova thisaway. People got all kinds of stuff just creepin’ and crawlin’ around … don’t you know gay men are trifflin’?
ZANDER (CONT’D): Anyway … it was a blind date, so you never know what chu gon get. I told him I’d meet him at THINK COFFEE—the one on Mercer St. So right before, I called my sister and was like ‘Alright Zaquisha, girl—her real name is Mary but I still call her Zaquisha—I’m bout to go on this date. I want you to call me in five minutes so I can get the hell out if the shit’s goin' to hell!
CHLOE: That is so bad! You know there’s an App for that…
ZANDER: Bye, bitch! So anyway, the dude arrives—his name is Nick—and I’m mad as hell. His profile said he was six feet tall—“VGL” and “STR8 acting” and here come this tiny ass boy who is queenier than I am. I said to myself: "Oh I’m not havin’ this." I do not do queen. No ma’am. I have enough glitter for eve-rybody.
CHLOE: (Laughing) See! I told you!
ZANDER (CONT’D): But now it’s too late because he knows what I look like so I can’t just ignore him.
CHLOE: Amazing. So how do you get out of this one?
CHLOE is practically ready. She’s wearing the black harem pants, a purple boat neck sweater made entirely of sequins, her favorite Louboutin’s, and 25 bangles. CHLOE starts putting her hair in a style that ZANDER doesn’t like. RuPaul’s “Cover Girl” comes on the iPod.
ZANDER: Oh my god—stop right now! I know you are not about to rock the “Snooki Bump” …
CHLOE: Oh come on! It’s fabulous. Amy Winehouse did it!
ZANDER: And that trollop is a hot ass mess, too. Your hair is not a titty and it doesn’t need to be pushed up …
CHLOE: Well… what else can I do? Oooh! Should I crimp it and rock the wet look?
ZANDER: (Sings: “Juss let cho soooooooouuuuuuuuul glllloowwwww!”) I know the 90s are back, but I don’t know if you want to go to your own party with Coming to America Jheri Curl realness!
CHLOE: Boy you are too much!
ZANDER: Why don’t you wear this RED BOBBED WIG? It is everything. You will be the center of attention. And honey, if you don’t wear it, I will and steal all your thunder.
CHLOE snatches the RED BOBBED WIG from ZANDER and puts it on, fixes it.
ZANDER: Now you look crewt!
A HONK from outside.
ZANDER (CONT’D): Up! The town car’s here. Time for a once over. Let me have a look at you, darling.
The Ones “Flawless” comes on the iPod.
ZANDER (CONT’D): You look faaaaaaabulous.
CHLOE: Do I really? You know that tonight is all about me. I mean there’s the performance or whatever I’m doing, but nobody really cares about that. This is New York—nobody goes to the opening for the art. People want to know who I’m wearing, they’ll want an autograph, and they’ll of course be taking pics.
ZANDER: Chile you know I love me a pic. The flashing bulbs… the people screaming your name. It makes me feel fabulous, desired, wanted, needed. Whenever a camera flashes me, it’s like taking a hit of coke. I do it once and I want it more and more, again and again. Now you know I don’t mess with no drugs, but you get what I’m sayin. The shit makes me feel powerful.
CHLOE: Why do you think I love being famous and fabulous? There’s nothing better than working a room where everybody’s interested in you. That moment when you enter the room and all conversations stop and become about you.
ZANDER: Girl, being fabulous is fun and all, but don’t get twisted admiring yourself, or else you’ll end up in a damn lake—or however the hell that story goes.
CHLOE: What—is there something wrong with being as vain as I am? I mean, I don’t think I’m that vain, but it’s like… to be famous you have to be super self interested, right? I am an ARTISTE, so I’m just like a product of pop culture.
BLOC PARTY “Song for Clay” comes on.
ZANDER: Bitch stop philosophizing before the Town Car leaves your Socrates ass.
CHLOE: (GATHERING her things, picking up her purse, looking at herself in the mirror one last time, doing practice poses in the mirror). I’m serious. Look around! Vanity is everywhere! Twitter, Garance Doré, Street Peeper, The Sartorialist, The Cobrasnake, Camera Phone, Guys With iPhones, the Sex Tapes, the Velvet Rope, the guest lists. Show me something that isn’t vain and I’ll show you an apartment in Manhattan for $40,000.
ZANDER: I hear you, and honey you know I love being fabulous, too. Just make sure you remember where you come from, don’t forget the little people—like me.
CHLOE: (Hugs ZANDER) Aww, Zanny, you’re not little. And you do look fabulous.
ZANDER: Don’t I? Now let’s go work these cameras.
ZANDER: And done.
Laughter. They exit. The music stops and you hear the click, clack of CHLOE’s Louboutin’s on the hard floor.