July 26, 2006
I, Kandy Kane, stand before you humiliated.
Yes, I play the devil-may-care bon vivant, the party-hearty girl, the anything-for-a-laugh lighthearted do-anything-once babe-alicious sweetheart.
But deep down I've been harboring a terrible secret, a secret that has worn on me, consumed me, until it's gotten to the point I must blurt it out before it kills me.
Last summer I had the occasion of being introduced to Peter Cook and Christie Brinkley. On multiple occasions after that, Mr. Cook and I would meet — restaurants, parties, on the beach, even in the street. I was 19, young, attractive and na´ve. He was 46, svelte, suave and worldly. Despite my saucy columns and wiseacre manner, I was an innocent, really, a small town girl, sheltered from the world.
It went on all summer, these meetings, these interludes, with Mr. Cook.
Imagine how I felt when I learned he had seduced a 19 year old Southampton girl and had a yearlong sexual relationship with her.
Imagine the heartbreak when another woman came forward to say she also had been taken advantage of by the Casanova architect with the wandering eyes.
OK I'm just going to blurt this out: During the many times I saw Mr. Cook last summer, HE NEVER HIT ON ME. There, I said it. Not once. He didn't "rub me the wrong away." He didn't send suggestive e-mails. He didn't ask "What would you say if I told you I was attracted to you?" He did nothing!
What's wrong with me? AM I ugly? Dumpy? Un-cool? How could Peter Cook not want a piece of this action? Why, dear God, why me? I mean, why not me?
OK, someone has to tell Janice Dickinson, America's first supermodel, to calm the hell down. The aging nymph was spotted once again at Cigar Bar "slutting it up," in the eyes of one shocked patron, who said the slop-mouthed razor-thin piglet, juiced on something, was making the woo-woos at all the local boys and hurling hissy invectives at the local lasses. David O'Hara of Braveheart fame was among those ogling the sussiphyed oinker.
Saturday she took time out from partying in Sag Harbor to co-host "Dancing On The Beach" a fundraiser for The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Community Center held fittingly at Two Mile Hollow beach, East Hamptons' notorious gay beach. She was joined by Thea Gill from "Queer As Folk." There's a theme thing at play, we think.
And this week's polo superstar is: Brooke Shields, sans baby but with her older "pretty baby" Rowan in tow. She looked radiant, happy and very, very tall, which dimmed any chance the one-time model turned mediocre actress may have had with Spades. You see, real men don't date women who are taller than they are. It's just the way it is . . . some things will never change. Spades did make hay with the above mentioned Ms. Dickinson, but then again, who hasn't?
Sightings: Russell Simmons driving a little, phat aqua-colored VW Bug . . . Al Roker at Pacific East . . . Dennis Miller at Tierra Mar before his WHPAC show . . . Art Garfunkel ate at the same restaurant after his gig . . . The lovely Julianna Margulies at Lori . . . Chuck Scarborough with wife and dog strolling on Main Street in Southampton . . . Starr Jones in Azurest.
Rumor and Innuendo: They're playing at POLO. No, we don't mean they're playing polo, which they are — we mean the players are playing, at least two with the wives of the gentlemanly jet setters who attend these things . . . Rumor has it one cuckolded hubby wouldn't mind making it a threesome . . .