Kempt Goes to Cannes
After disappearing late last week without a peep, our intrepid editorial director Randy Goldberg finally resurfaced—telling stories of the Riviera and a close encounter with Sir Robert DeNiro. Of what really went on there, we have only this record… When our friends at Stella Artois asked if I had a couple of days to drop by Cannes, bunk down at Chez Jacques at the near-perfect Carlton Hotel, help close out the Festival and generally use the word Riviera as a verb, I obliged. I brought a tuxedo, a pair of trunks and an appetite for le destruction. As for what I found there, all the rumors are true: yachts made of solid gold, an endless fountain of truly mesmerizing creatures, gala-side dealmaking, Chanel breezes, 30-euro cocktails, le Palm D’Or, flashbulb sunburns, method acting during hotel lobby brawls (that would be Mr. Gosling), enough rose to drown a desperate housewife, and, of course, the gracious hospitality of Jacques D’Azur.