She really likes fruit. And No Doubt. But we love her anyway. Because, man, can she sing. And, you know, she looks like this...
It's pissing rain in Larchmont, where Katy Perry lives, just south of Hollywood. The twenty-four-year-old singer gets out of a silver Audi A6 wearing a headband with a black-and-white bow, Wayfarers, and a T-shirt with Mickey and Minnie Mouse holding hands from behind. Pencil-thin black pants with zippers all over them. She looks like a dancer in Lionel Richie's "Dancing on the Ceiling" video. She takes off her glasses and she has beautiful blue eyes. Big eyes. Her lips are pink and pouty. Somehow it's impossible to get a sense of her body. Somehow she's hiding it. But her eyes are gigantic.
We sit down in an empty bistro. She looks like someone in her mid-twenties, but she has the demeanor of someone in her early thirties. Controlled, surprisingly. But not "media-trained" controlled. Controlled like someone who is introspective even when you don't ask her to be. She acts like a local (she grew up in Santa Barbara, California) who's taking a break from a long day of work (the first stop on her first world tour is the next day, in Seattle).
She gets a crepe with grapes, a pineapple slice, and a wedge of watermelon. Turns out she really likes fruit.