of the reflecting pool, Rachel said to Carlton, “So that’s the Jennifer Lawrence of China?”
“Oh, she’s a much bigger star than Jennifer. She’s like Jennifer Lawrence, Gisele Bündchen, and Beyoncé put together,” Carlton declared.
Rachel laughed at the analogy. “Until tonight, I’d never heard of her.”
“Trust me, you will soon. Every director in Hollywood is trying to get her in their films, because they know it will mean hundreds of millions in box-office gold over here.”
Pan TingTing stood at the entrance to the garden as all eyes locked onto her. Every guest wanted to study the translucent marble complexion that Shanghai Vogue had likened to Michelangelo’s Pietà, those celebrated Bambi eyes, and her Sophia Loren–esque curves. TingTing put on the beatific smile she was so famous for and scanned the crowd quickly as the first camera flashes went off. No surprises tonight—it’s all the usual suspects. Why did I ever agree to leave London for this event? Good exposure, my agent says. Considering that I am already on six magazine covers this month, why do I need more exposure? I could be enjoying that amazing butternut squash salad at Ottolenghi right now and bicycling through Notting Hill totally unrecognized (except for the Chinese tourists shopping on Ledbury Road), but here I am, being dissected like an insect under a microscope. Speaking of insects, what in Guanyin’s name is Perrineum Wang wearing on her head? Don’t make eye contact. Oh look, here comes photographer Russell Wing. How does he manage to be at every party in Asia at the same time? Stephanie Shi just leaped out of her seat like an electrocuted poodle. Just watch, she’s going to try to stand on my right again so that when the photograph appears anywhere, the caption will read “Stephanie Shi and Pan TingTing.” She always wants her name to come first. Thank God her grandfather isn’t in power anymore. I hear that these days the old man has to use a colostomy bag. And of course, right behind Stephanie come two other Beijing princesses, Adele Deng and Wen Pi Fang. God help them, they’re both wearing those Balmain basket-weave dresses that make them look like a pair of walking rattan chairs.
The ladies greeted TingTing with cloying hugs and interlocked their arms around her as if they were the closest of friends while Russell snapped his pictures. My God, in the photo I’m going to look like the meat in a Balmain sandwich. Would these guanerdai*2 girls have even spit in my direction five years ago? God, the things I do in the name of charity!
As they returned to their seats, Adele whispered to Pi Fang, “I tried to look for the scars on her eyelids this time—I really don’t believe those huge raccoon eyes of hers can be real. The problem is she has fake eyelashes on, and she uses very good concealer. In pictures, she appears to have very little makeup on, but in reality she has gobs on in all the right places.”
Pi Fang nodded. “I looked at the nose. No one’s nostrils are that perfect! Ivan Koon swears that she used to be a KTV hostess in Suzhou until some tycoon there paid for her to go to Seoul to get everything redone. The plastic surgeon had to issue her one of those certificates with ‘before’ and ‘after’ pics because she looked nothing like her passport photo after all the bandages came off.”
“Pi hua!”*3 Tiffany Yap shot back. “Can’t you just accept the fact that she was born with natural beauty? Not everyone has gone to Seoul to get their noses broken on purpose like the both of you. And TingTing isn’t from Suzhou—she comes from Jinan. She’s very open about the fact that before Zhang Yimou discovered her, she sold makeup at an SK-II counter.”
“Well, I’m partly right then. This is how she has access to all the best concealers,” Adele declared.
TingTing arrived at her seat of honor, between Colette and Colette’s mother. She shook Mrs. Bing’s hands respectfully before taking her seat, and Colette leaned in to give her a double-cheek kiss. Colette looks fab, as always. People say she only looks good because she can afford anything on the planet, but I disagree. She’s got a style that money can’t buy. It’s funny how the press labels us “best friends,” when this is maybe the fifth time I’ve met her. Still, she’s one of the few out of this bunch that I can actually stand. She’s not predictable