Fountains of Wayne

Last week, George Wayne, Vanity Fair’s dean of inappropriateness, opened a new Chelsea club called Boudoir. Jada Yuan spoke to him and his (isn’t this unfair?) Q&A chaperone, Lizzie Grubman.

George Wayne, what is the name George Wayne synonymous with?
Gotham. New York City. I’ve documented pop culture for the last twenty years, and I’ve reached a point where now it’s time to define the aspect instead of critique it.

What kind of nightclub are we talking about?
It’s not really a nightclub. There’s not even a lighting system. It’s a lounge. Somewhere fun, fashionable folk can sip from a jeroboam and never be bored with the conversation.

What’s your job there?
I have equity in this place.

And your idea of a good crowd?
I expect to see Prince Albert and Ivana come downtown and have fun. I like to see high society mixing with the drag queens. And if I get some of the people who have frequented Bungalow, I’ll be thrilled.

The plan is for you to lure in celebs. But do any still talk to you?
Of course. After the interviews, I get invitations to their homes, darling. I have some great stories, but I’ll save that for the book.

At exactly what point did A-list celebrities stop granting you interviews?
How dare you insult the standard of people that have appeared in my column! I’ve interviewed from Faye Dunaway to—I guess Kirstie Alley.

Who have you had in your own boudoir recently?
Oh! Listen to you! Wouldn’t you like to know? I’ll just tell you that he’s absolutely stunning.
Lizzie: Okay, next question.

Who would you like to have?
The list is endless.
Lizzie: Okay, move on.

Lizzie, let me interview George.
George: Tall, dark, and … oh, come on. I don’t know. I’m single, so I’m looking.
Lizzie: Why don’t you talk about how you’re an entrepreneur, not only a journalist.
George: Absolutely. I’m a visionary, darling.

Describe your visions.
There’s film, there’s television, there’s opportunities. You know, I’ve got the brain, you’ve got the looks, let’s make lots of money.

What were you doing in Moscow last year when you disappeared?
Lizzie: Let’s not go there.
George: Darling, that’s old news. I was fine. But Vanity Fair took you off the masthead for a while“in a fit of pique.”
Oh, yes. That was a little disappointing.
Lizzie: With all due respect, this isn’t about that. We’re talking about a club.
George: Yes. Let’s move on.

Okay, what else do you want to tell me about this club?
I think that’s it.

Fountains of Wayne