| September 30th, 2005 12:03 PM |
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| Honky Tonk Man |
quote:
monkey_man wrote:
She's off to rehab I hear!
Taken from an internet news site.
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Kate Moss Fashion Victim Checks Into Rehab
Kate Moss, the troubled model whose is facing the cocaine abuse, is checking into an American clinic to overcome her addictions. Earlier this month, Moss, 31, was caught on tape "hoovering up" lines of cocaine, according to London’s Daily Mirror, which published the images in a scathing exposé after conducting an underground investigation into Moss’ activities.
Britain’s Sky One has announced plans to air the footage of Moss snorting the drug--reportedly five lines over the course of 45 minutes--as part of an upcoming documentary, which will supposedly offer a balanced debate over the role of the media and the fashion industry and examine whether Moss will be able to continue her career.
Friends say that she has flown to the Meadows Clinic in Phoenix, Arizona, where she will stay for a month under "medical treatment and therapy."
This comes as Moss, 31 who try this as being be the first step to winning back the lucrative modelling contracts she has lost over the past ten days.
Moss has lost a series of high profile contracts with luxury purveyors such as H&M, Chanel and Burberry. Cosmetics giant Rimmel London announced it was reviewing its contract with the model and Roberto Cavalli distanced himself from her. Each contract lost is expected to cost Moss over $1 million.
The clinic, that costs $4,000 (£2,250) a night, has been used by models, comedians and sports stars with drug, drink or psychological problems.
The clinic has previously treated celebrities including Paul Gascoigne, Tara Palmer-Tomkinson and Michael Barrymore.
Moss will have none of the luxuries she is used to.She will have to share a room with other addicts and submit to the clinic’s tough regime.
Phone calls home – even to her three-year-old daughter, Lila – are banned, along with cigarettes.
The clinic offers help to “individuals seeking treatment for recovery from toxic and abusive living”.
Staff have no regard for celebrity status and the clinic does not just help the rich and famous – many of the US patients have their treatment paid by health insurance.
Former cocaine addict Palmer-Tomkinson has said: “It was hell – you have nothing with you, and no-one knows who you are, so I couldn’t even play on that. I was practically just a number.
Despite Moss’ troubles, Doukas said the catwalker is close to signing a new contract to represent a luxury perfume.
Moss previously checked herself into rehab back in 1998, claiming she was suffering from "exhaustion." She later admitted she’d been hitting the bottle and getting high before hopping on the catwalk, but denied ever indulging in harder substances.
The model is the mother of 3-year-old Lila Grace, her daughter with ex-boyfriend Jefferson Hack.
Now time will tell whether it’s a publicity stunt to win back the lucrative contracts or Moss really comes out clean !!! |
| September 30th, 2005 12:46 PM |
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| scratched |
quote:
Honky Tonk Man wrote:
Listen to they're lyrics. They're VERY British and really, very out of date with modern society.
"How queer!"
From 'Skag and Bone Man' if I remember correctly.
[Edited by scratched] |
| September 30th, 2005 01:00 PM |
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| Honky Tonk Man |
How Queer indeed!
Hey scrathed, are you boozing in Eltham tonight?  |
| September 30th, 2005 01:12 PM |
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| scratched |
How ya doing HTM!?
No I'm not boozing in Eltham tonight! Blackheath instead as far as I know. Had a session in Eltham Weatherspoons on Wednesday though - double Bulleit and Cokes on offer! No trouble or weirdos as far as I remember but it was a week night!
Where abouts are you out tonight HTM? |
| September 30th, 2005 01:38 PM |
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| Honky Tonk Man |
quote:
scratched wrote:
How ya doing HTM!?
No I'm not boozing in Eltham tonight! Blackheath instead as far as I know. Had a session in Eltham Weatherspoons on Wednesday though - double Bulleit and Cokes on offer! No trouble or weirdos as far as I remember but it was a week night!
Where abouts are you out tonight HTM?
I was scheduled to stay in tonight, but I was supposed to be going out with one of my mates on Saturday. He's blown me out, so I may be staying in again!
Back in Welling on Sunday, so I'll probably go to the Lloyds bar in Bexleyheath.
I went into the Eltham Spoons once, but walked out because it was full of oldies and couldn't get a seat. I can't stand Wetherspoons pubs anyway. It's cheap, but atmosphere means a lot to me.
When the current Land Lady in The Crown quits and I'm allowed back in, I'll buy you a pint
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| September 30th, 2005 01:46 PM |
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| scratched |
quote:
Honky Tonk Man wrote:
I went into the Eltham Spoons once, but walked out because it was full of oldies and couldn't get a seat. I can't stand Wetherspoons pubs anyway. It's cheap, but atmosphere means a lot to me.
You're right. I just remembered that the seats (and subsequently my jeans) has a distinctly 'pissy' aroma to them.
quote:
Honky Tonk Man wrote:
When the current Land Lady in The Crown quits and I'm allowed back in, I'll buy you a pint
You're on! |
| October 3rd, 2005 09:55 AM |
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| Factory Girl |
More on Pete
http://www.cnn.com/2005/SHOWBIZ/Music/10/02/doherty.drugs.ap/index.html |
| October 5th, 2005 03:45 PM |
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| Honky Tonk Man |
Thanks for the link Factory Girl.
Most of the UK tabloids covered that story.
Pete claims that the only drugs he had on him were of the prescription kind.
5 days 'till the Babyshambles Brixton show!
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| October 5th, 2005 03:53 PM |
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| Factory Girl |
Alex!!
Tell Pete I said "Hello"!!  |
| October 5th, 2005 04:08 PM |
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| Honky Tonk Man |
quote:
Factory Girl wrote:
Alex!!
Tell Pete I said "Hello"!!
Ha ha, If he TURNS UP, I'll have a go! |
| October 5th, 2005 04:51 PM |
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| SheRat |
Open Letter To Kate Moss
Oh my waifish, coke-snorting love, how they have abused and betrayed you. We shall overcome.
by Mark Morford
Oh my dearest Kate,
Something is amiss. Something is deeply askew in the culture and you know it and I know it and the world knows it and something must be done.
This much we know, Kate: Rock stars are supposed to be debauched and swaggering and dumber'n concrete. TV stars are supposed to be overrated and self-indulgent and wired on amphetamines and viciously jealous of movie stars who are, in turn, airbrushed egomaniacal limelight sluts, terrified of their own shadows and so desperately jacked on a daily cocktail of Botox and Xanax and Veuve Clicquot it would make Liza Minnelli giggle.
And supermodels, well, most supermodels are supposed to be, by definition, morally vacuous featherweight coke-snorting divas floating above the gap-toothed plebeian throngs on gossamer wings of Prada and Dolce and Tanqueray gin, all fueled by the raging white-knuckle jealously of 500 million women worldwide who will never ever look like you but who will spend, collectively, $400 trillion per year trying.
This is the way it is. This is the way it has always been. This is, after all, why we love you.
Which is why I am deeply ashamed and horrified at what the media, the culture, those snide fashion houses (especially them) have done to you, Kate. Burberry, Chanel and H&M have all dumped you like a bad burrito and cut up your multimillion-dollar contracts (cosmetics giant Rimmel London is currently "reviewing" theirs, but it doesn't look good), treating you like a goddess one day and a pariah the next, all over one grainy paparazzi shot of you chopping up a line of premium flake in some recording studio. Hell, they might even try to arrest you for it. Can you believe it? What lousy luck.
And what incredible gall, am I right? As if the empires of these fickle, hypocritical fashion houses weren't wholly built on the spindly backs of countless thousands of hard-partying fashion models, as if premium cocaine and Valium and Camels and booze and Ecstasy and 153 other happy shiny meds weren't as pervasive in the fashion biz as back hair at a NASCAR rally, as if piles of narcotics weren't on tap at every elite New York fashion party every night of the week, and they know it. Oh, those duplicitous cretins.
But I am here with a message for you, Kate. Here it is: You shall rise again. You shall overcome, all 105 boozed-up coke-addled famously bitchy party-riffic pounds of you. I know you will. You must. You're all we've got left. You are the last, thin gasp of a dying, radiant era. We shall defend your honor.
And we still remember. Do you remember, Kate? Do you recall being discovered at JFK airport back in '88 when you were only 14? Hell, you'd just begun to sprout pubic hair and you'd barely kissed your first boy and you looked as lost as a moth in the ocean, and yet they stripped you down and shot photo after photo of your half-naked flesh as you stared, vacant and strange, into the camera, all while, unbeknownst to you, you were single-handedly ushering in the era of the sickly, anorexic, "heroin chic" look so beloved/loathed by women and designers and drug addicts worldwide. Do you remember? It was a time, girl.
Halcyon days, am I right? Trotting the globe, making out with Johnny Depp, partying hard with Naomi Campbell across Barbados and Paris and London like the spoiled-rotten demon-spawn you both were, your career hitting the stratosphere under the tender watchful glares of all those glorious curvy supermodel divas of the time: Linda Evangelista and Christy Turlington and Helena Christensen, Stephanie Seymour and Heidi Klum and even that uptight prude Cindy Crawford. Oh how you loved them like big overbearing party-crazed sisters, even if they wanted to snap you like a twig for making them diet so damn much. What a time.
And now, look at them. All gone. All married off and settled down and hawking yoga clothes and popping out kids and launching mediocre TV shows and whatever the hell else, and only a few posing for the occasional catalog shoot for Ralph Lauren or maybe Calvin Klein Home Collection. What the hell happened? Where have all the good times gone? No wonder you're inhaling a small mountain of coke off in the corner, all by yourself. It's lonely at the top. Or rather, off to the side.
It's only you, Kate. The rest fell away, leaving only you to take up the burden and carry the decadent-supermodel flame. And you've done the fashion world proud: Hell, not only did you refuse to settle, you actually regressed, going so far as to hook up with Pete Doherty, a fabulous train wreck of an alcoholic rock star who was fired from his only good band for being such a drug-addled sloth. Yes! Only you, my precious Kate. Only you.
So then, as you enter rehab (I know, these PR moves are a bitch, aren't they? Four grand a night at the Meadows Clinic in Arizona and no more sucking shots of Patron Silver from Pete's pasty belly fat for a whole month. It's just wrong) and as you issue heartfelt apology after heartfelt apology to a deeply jaded public that really doesn't care all that much in the first place, let these thoughts be your balm, this letter be your solace.
Because we know, Kate. We know you were wronged. And we know you're the last of a dying breed, the end of a line. Behind you stand only a bunch of pampered celebs to grace the cover of Elle, along with a pile of curvy buxom Maxim-ready look-alike models from Brazil. Oh yeah, and Gisele. And I think we've had almost enough of her, too.
But this is the wonderful thing, Kate. This is why I am writing to you: You will be back. You will take a year or two off and dump that flabby loser and lament your woes to Oprah and then do a cameo on "Will & Grace," and then your star will rise again. Because if there's one thing we all love more than making a star in order to destroy it, it's seeing it rise again from the ashes, resurrected in our good graces, saved by our consumer largesse. Ah, what tortured machinery we make.
So Kate, thank you. Thank you for all these years of simultaneously representing everything we love about our mad consumer culture and everything we hate about our mad consumer culture. But most of all, thank you for refusing to give up, even after 17 years, on the glory and the decadence and the coke-snortin' party-crazed supermodel dream. It's like Homer Simpson said when raising a toast to his favorite drink: "To beer: the cause of -- and solution to -- all life's problems."
That's you in a nutshell, baby. Come back soon.
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| October 5th, 2005 05:17 PM |
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| Saint Sway |
I was reading in the local rag that Sharon Stone condemned the fashion houses for not supporting Kate Moss.
I think its beautiful to see coke whores sticking up for each other. |
| October 5th, 2005 06:24 PM |
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| texile |
they're all fucking hypocrites...they abandon and condemn her for living up to the image they created in her image....and sold her and sold her...
instead of being a rock/chick/girlfriend....she WAS like a rock star....i wish she would tell them to fuck off instead "apologizing" |
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