I must lay my cards on the table.  I like Naomi Campbell.  Perhaps I am indeed the lone member of her fan club as someone suggested yesterday.

I am not in the business of mob justice, or Facebook kangaroo courts.  Wether she has been a silly cow in the past or not is none of my business.  I am sure that for her past misdemeanors and indiscretions she has paid the price.

Since she hasn’t thrown a cell phone or punched an air stewardess for some time I think it best that we give this woman a break.  Perhaps by walking in her stilettos for a mile I might understand where she’s coming from.

Frankly, if I were a model diva on vacation on a yacht in St Tropez forced to fly to a dismal courtroom in the Hague I too might find taking the stand at the war crimes trial of the President of Liberia, as she is now mocked for saying, ‘very inconvenient’.  She has been embroiled in a situation that was not of her own making.  I, for one, am not buying into this new wave of press generated ‘Naomi is a Bitch’ sentiment.

The way she is described in some quarters one might think that she is the one accused of war crimes, that she is somehow a war criminal by association.  Naomi Campell may have briefly accepted a bag of blood diamonds but this does not make her in any way culpable for the crimes of the murderous Liberian President..she is naive at best, greedy at worst.  Whatever she is she is totally undeserving of the vitriol presently coming her way.

Whenever I have chanced upon her she has been sweet and kind and desperate to deal with the well documented problems she has with both her temper and substance abuse.  When Lee McQueen died she called everyone she knew he knew even if they didn’t know her particularly well.  Friends of Lee’s found her unexpected comfort calls at that very difficult time very reassuring.

I had dinner last night with a wonderful producer friend of mine who knew everyone in the restaurant.  I ate a large and delicious salad nicoise.   We popped into an art event/installation that included a ten foot pile of pancakes and a naked man in a glass box with a pancake covering his face and genitals.   Later we ended up at a young Hollywood party on La Cienega.  The next generation of real managers, producers and actors all crammed into a tiny bar.

The best part of my day was spent in Malibu with the little dog.  We walked down the hill to see how the Rambla Pacifico road construction is progressing.  They are making a massive amount of headway, grading the land over where the land slide happened all those years ago and preparing to back fill with huge polystyrene blocks which apparently will lighten the weight of the construction.

On my way back I met two Armenian brothers who have moved into a house at that end of Rambla.  One of them is dreamily good-looking.  Instead of fixating on him however with his brown eyes and hairy chest I felt sad and missed my NYC friend.

My favorite restaurant Axe in Venice has burned down.  Fuck.  I loved that place.