SUZY

Byline: Aileen Mehle

Patty Hearst Shaw is just back from Paris, where she spent three hectic days being fitted for her little strut down the runway on March 16. That’s when she’ll model two “very wild” creations by Thierry Mugler, when he shows off his new collection at the Winter Palace. The dresses are divine — a long black and white evening dress embroidered with jewels and flowers, the other short and seductive, as in terminally sexy. The fittings went smoothly; it was the shoes Patty had trouble with. She wears a 6 12, teeny-tiny compared with most models’ feet, which go on forever. She was falling out of the gunboats provided, so Patty’s shoesies had to be custom made.
The on dit is that wildness will prevail at the House of Mugler — wild headresses, wild platform shoes, wild corsets. Thousands of people are expected to see the show, which will also star such vintage stunners as Verushka, Jerry Hall and Julie Newmar and such current showstoppers as Linda Evangelista and Kate Moss. Patty is very taken with Mugler, a designer, she says, who “loves women and makes you look like a real one.” Her first entrance is planned as a spectacular surprise. A secret, of course, until someone leaks it.
Speaking of shoe sizes, Diana Vreeland used to tell me that nothing received so much retouching in Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar photographs as models’ feet, shod and bare. “We give them arches and heighten their insteps,” she trilled, “and straighten their toes and make them smooth and beautiful.” Judging from what one sees now in many magazines of style and beauty, it’s a lost art.

More on dit has Princess Stephanie of Monaco marrying Daniel Ducruet, her lover and the father of her two children, in June in the cathedral in Monte Carlo. Prince Rainier, who always hated the idea of Ducruet, seems to have bowed to the inevitable and lightened up. But he and Steph are still butting heads. Proud of Ducruet, she wants a big wedding, with all his relatives and friends invited. Rainier, considering that his rebellious daughter has been living in sin for years and has two illegitimate children tugging at her skirts, would rather keep it small and discreet. Whatever, it will be a cathedral wedding with a cardinal officiating. Will Stephanie go so far at to want white and a big puffy veil? Maybe the House of Dior should keep its lines open.

You would think the good citizens of Hollywood, Beverly Hills and environs would be shock-proof by now, inured to marriages made in hell and couplings made for lust or convenience. But the film colony and Southern California socialites are bouleverses over the way Roger Moore’s new love, Christine Tholstop, was welcomed to the neighborhood on a recent visit (while Roger looked on fondly), taken to collective bosoms and treated like she’s Mrs. Roger Moore. Which, of course, she isn’t. Because the true Mrs. Roger Moore (Luisa) is still very much married to the actor and furious over his treatment of her. He wants a divorce, she doesn’t. It isn’t pretty.

How now, Cary Grant? Remember when people were murdered for things like money, drugs and revenge? Now everything is so high tech, people kill for secret computer discs. Sandra Bullock is the potential victim in the new movie thriller, “The Net.” The would-be assassin is tall, dark and handsome British actor Jeremy Northam, sometimes referred to as the next Cary Grant, but aren’t they all? — Hugh Grant most of all. The truth is neither one of them is the next Cary Grant. (As for “The Net,” it somehow appeared as “The Web” in Wednesday’s column. Strike that.)

Statuesque and stunning Princess Michael (Marie-Christine) of Kent is in town to lecture on glamorous historical figures at the Metropolitan Museum, the Colony Club and hither and thither. After speaking trippingly on the tongue at the Museum, she put on her little black Dior and went off to a dinner party Lee Thaw was giving in her honor at Lee’s Park Avenue maisonette, which is filled with lovely things (inanimate) and was filled with lovely things that night (animate). Lee was wearing a white tuxedo designed by Carolina Herrera and Carolina Herrera, wearing a black silk crepe with a crystal panel down the front designed by Carolina Herrera (surprise!), was there to see Lee in it.
Prince and Princess Michael of Greece and Denmark, charming, erudite and gifted — he writes, she sculpts — were there to greet the guest of honor, as were Nancy Dickerson Whitehead and John Whitehead, Reinaldo Herrera, Bootsie and Evan Galbraith, Kathy and William Rayner, Shirley and Abe Rosenthal, and Aline, Countess of Romanones, with the man in her life, Bud Palmer.
One of the most beautiful women in the room was Princess Yashodara of Gwalior, draped in a glorious sari and wearing a little diamond in her nose. On her it looks good. Barbara Portago, Ana Cristina Alvarado, Anne Nitze, Carroll Petrie, Heather Cohane and Lee’s niece, Lucinda Thaw, brightened their corners. John Stefanides, Paul Wilmot, Robert Mendoza, John Richardson (who is finishing the second of his four-volume biography of Picasso), Gil Shiva, Frederick Lapham, Ashton Hawkins, Schuyler Chapin, Kenneth Jay Lane and Lee’s nephew, Sebastian Thaw, rounded out the perfumed pack. (Well, the women were perfumed, anyhow). You would have loved it.

A selection of paintings by the famous artist Kenneth Noland are now on view at the Leo Castelli Gallery, and to celebrate, Paige Rense, who is also Mrs. Kenneth Noland, invited friends and fans to the preview at the gallery and to a party afterwards at Barolo. Everyone was there to toast Ken and kiss Paige and vice-versa. Wherever you looked were such as writer Susan Mary Alsop, the pride of Georgetown, Carleton Varney, Suzanne Stephens, Steven Aronson, Marilyn Evins, Juan Pablo and Pilar Molyneux (Juan Pablo is doing the Conrad Blacks’ Park Avenue apartment), Kay Meehan, the Roy Lichtensteins, Renny Saltzman, Tom Britt, Mario Buatta, Billy Cunningham, Jaime Ardiles-Arce, Cari Modine and on and on and on. Paige, who runs things at Architectural Digest, was wearing a little gray woolen suit and the softest, flattest shoes in town. She has broken two of her toes, and they are taped together while they heal. “It’s called a buddy tape,” she explained. Oh. She didn’t say whether it was the little piggy that went to market, the one that ate roast beef or the one that went wee, wee, wee all the way home. She can’t think of everything.

Dina Merrill will be honored by the New York Mission Society for her 45 plus years of commitment at a dinner at the Pierre on April 24. The invitations haven’t even gone out yet and already the tribute — and few are so well deserved — is going swimmingly. Angela Lansbury, Carolina Herrera, Elizabeth Taylor, Lena Horne, Bill Blass and assorted Rockefellers and Whitneys have joined the committee. Brava, Dina.

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