I linked to that Bacall story, to be honest, just so I could make use of the August W interview I read with Katie Holmes. (Sometimes these things are just in front of you…you can’t help but read.) My instinct is usually to be delighted for adults who say they’re in love, whoever they are—I’m Derbyshirian (there’s a phrase I never thought I’d write) in that way. And love does funny things to people, but Miss Holmes seems to be a blank slate but for Cruise—it’s a more than mildly creepy piece:
“I’m learning,” Holmes says, as the make-up artist applies her eye shadow, “to celebrate my own spirit, my own being.”
No pressure from Cruise, she swears: “That’s really ludicrous because, I mean, you have to know Tom. He is the most loving, generous man who…first of all, he wants to help people. He doesn’t put pressure on people. He is the kindest, smartest, most adoring man. It’s a pleasure and a privilege to be with him.”
As if that weren’t already perfectly clear, just then a security guard limbers into the dressing room and presents Holmes with a giant silver box tied with thick purple ribbon. A small crowd gathers to watch her gleefully tear open the package and pluck out a Chanel diamond necklace—a gift, naturally, from Cruise. “He’s my man! He’s my man!” she screams, then jumps up on her chair to do an impression of her fiancé’s now-famous sofa shtick from Oprah.
People being to cheer. “This is your moment!” cries the manicurist.
“I can do splits too,” Holmes says, jumping down and splaying herself across the floor. On that note, I suggest, we should probably get the photo shoot started.
“On that note,” she replies, “I love him.”
Enough with the jokes and gossip-mag covers. Someone needs an intervention.