As you may or may not know, this past weekend was Hollywood’s annual Super Bowl otherwise known as the Academy Awards. (Your interest level probably somewhat depended on whether you saw and, of course, fell in love with the impossibly charming film The Artist.)
Personally, I have always had a love/hate relationship with the Oscars. As a film publicist in my LA days, these awards always had the most notoriously formal and stress-inducing press line of the season. Negotiating your way down that particular red carpet with your clients always required a mix of extreme patience combined with brutish American football skills in order to make it through the endless throngs of the press with a passable level of grace.
In recent years, I’ve enjoyed a rather more laid back approach to the evening with annual viewing parties hosted by friends who absolutely live for any opportunity to throw a festive bash complete with the requisite champagne cocktails, chic little canapes, and mouth-watering desserts.