Supermodel. WERQ!

Linda.  Christy.  Naomi.  Cindy.  The one named glamazons who ruled the runways of the early 90's, dated rock stars and royalty, introduced the word 'supermodel' into pop culture and wouldn't get out of bed for less than $10,000 a day.  Billboards, music videos, ad campaigns, these women were everywhere until Anna Wintour pushed them off the cover of American Vogue in favor of actresses, forcing them to scramble for ways to extend their brand and stay in the public eye.  Acting, singing, realty TV, these women tried it all, with varying degrees of success. 

And then there's Carla Bruni, the indisputable queen of the second act.  At the height of her career, the Italian beauty was linked to Eric Clapton, Mick Jagger and Donald Trump before quitting the industry to devote herself to music, marry Nicolas Sarkozy, and become the first lady of France.  I know, right?  From the Champs-Élysées to the Élysée Palace in one expertly pedicured, Manolo Blahnik clad leap.  Carla was in town last week to promote her new CD Little French Songs on the Today Show, so of course I had to see her for myself.  Originally scheduled a month ago, the interview was rescheduled due to security concerns surrounding the Boston Marathon bombings, I figured there would be a ton of security and she may even use the garage entrance.  Not so.  When I got to Rockefeller Plaza during the Kathie Lee/Hoda hour, one of the regular guys said she arrived at 7:15, through the 48th street entrance but wouldn't pose because she wasn't wearing any makeup.  Typical model!  There were A TON of screaming teenage girls waiting at the entrance because Channing Tatum was also on the show, but a quick 'he garaged it, you're not going to see him' and they were gone.  Clearly I've been doing this too long. 

After about half an hour, what looked like a tall, thin woman with long hair came around the corner and down to the corridor to the glass doors, escorted by a couple of NBC security people.  The glare made it hard to tell who it was until the doors opened, and there before me stood Carla Bruni.  Still breathtaking, she posed for photos and signed autographs, including the CD I bought at the used CD store on 45th street for $4.00 because I was uncomfortable asking the former first lady of France to sign a nude of her in a body painted trompe-l'oeil dress by my friend Joanne Gair which would look STUNNING framed and signed above my desk.

In hindsight, she probably would have signed it.