We had the rules in advance: No chasing after celebrities; no requests for autographs; no requests for contact information; no taking photos or video; no eating the food or drink and so on. Violation of any of these rules will result in the shameful and immediate expulsion from the suites. The vendors were treated equally as the retailers chained to the shopping mall of the stars and as the attractions of, suite creator, Nathalie Dubois’ circus of luxurious oddities. One misstep and Nathalie “the ringmaster” wouldn’t hesitate to shamefully reprimand the offending vendor publicly. These moments we lived for, the gossip gave dimension to the long days and made us all giddy to share the newest confrontation story.

Our head on collision happened on day one when Psych’s Kristen Nelson wanted a necklace made. Her attempt to hand us her contact information was quickly thwarted by a sharp glance and one of Nathalie’s infamous  expulsion threats. We were only allowed to give our contact to the celebrities, they were not allowed to give us theirs. This rule, while seemingly foolish and counter intuitive to any business owner, is not of Nathalie’s devise. Such rules are put in place by the management of each celebrity, in order to protect their clients privacy and if any of Nathalie’s vendors are suspected of soliciting contacts, she could be blackballed from that manager’s contact list — Suicide for a woman who’s only business is to exist to tempt the famous and align other businesses with that fame for some degree of profit.

A glamorous parade of chemical peels, bobbling lip implants and hair extensions, each procedure a self hypothesized formula by celebrity alchemists looking to turn silicon into fame.

In Los Angeles, perception of celebrity rules and in the suites it’s magnified. Invitees were required to check in; their names as well as the show they appear on were written on star shaped post-its. If the person was nominated for an award the letter “N” would appear in brackets. We relied on these discreetly revealed cue cards because we only recognized one sixteenth of the visitors but were expected to treat everyone like they were bigger than Jesus.

Whether we knew who they were or not, these were the chosen few; this handful of individuals who happened to transcend the ranks of starving artists to be gainfully employed, for at least one season, on American television. It was as if the small screen was Logan’s Run, each celebrity trying to look more authentically young then the next artificially enhanced actor. Weathered women, were emaciated like stray cats, some teetering on stilettos as if they were on stilts for the first time. A glamorous parade of chemical peels, bobbling lip implants and hair extensions, each procedure a self hypothesized formula by celebrity alchemists looking to turn silicon into fame.

These individuals crave the spotlight and flock to these gifting suites to give a piece of their celebrity in exchange for goods as small as a bottle of iced tea. So long as the click of the camera is guaranteed, they will stand, pose and smile for trips to Bora Bora, skin care, make up and sticks of chocolate. There’s no mistaking it, there’s a cost to fame and nothing comes for free in L.A. especially in these suites. By day three, we were ready to leave the Beverly Hills Peninsula and kiss the gifting suites goodbye.

So back to the Hollywood Hills, it was 2am and the mickey of cachaca nearly finished and glittering city at our feet. It was time to go home now, the business trip was over, but after the craziness of the past few days, we knew the game had only just begun.

For more information on Feenie Beadie visit Lener’s website, www.feeniebeadie.com

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