Lady Gaga: "I can’t commit to being an adult—I’m not ready.”
With the time off from work during the holidays, I had the chance to catch up on my pop culture reading and came across this Vanity Fair piece about Lady Gaga,"In Lady Gaga's Wake." In it, we see Gaga in her parents' Upper West Side home, making pasta sauce for the journalist who is interviewing her. Here, the line between public and private life evaporates:
The apartment is a cozy triplex, with a large beige sofa and many framed family photos on the piano. There is a dining table by the open kitchen, a garden off the living room where Cynthia grows fennel, arugula, Italian parsley, rosemary, and oregano, and where there are small fig, olive, and lemon trees. And, at the kitchen counter by the sink, chopping cherry tomatoes in half for a spaghetti sauce she prepares from scratch, is Lady Gaga. She is wearing a black lace Chanel dress, extra-high Louboutin stiletto heels, glass earrings, full makeup, and a Daphne Guinness-inspired black-and-white wig. Just another Sunday afternoon at the Germanotta home.
Gaga removes the pink ribbon from the box of macarons I have brought from the newly opened Ladurée bakery, on Madison Avenue. She puts the Ladurée box on top of the Dunkin’ Donuts box already on the counter and ties the ribbon around her hairdo. She then proceeds to take me on a tour of the apartment. On the top floor are her parents’ bedroom and the bedroom she shared with her sister, Natali (who, now 19, attends art school in the city), where the red air mattress is on the floor. I note that there are no doors on the bedrooms—her parents could have heard everything she and her sister said growing up. “Yes,” she says, “and I heard them too.” (Later that evening, when we’re at the hotel for a lengthy chat, I ask, Why the air mattress on the floor instead of this suite with the room service, the marble bathrooms, the magnificent views of Central Park? “I’m in hotels all the time,” she says, “and they’re cold. None of this really matters to me. When I can, I’d much rather spend the time with my parents.”)
So the twenty-five-year-old mega-star--otherwise known for flashing her privates in the music video for "Telephone," sporting an all-meat dress at the VMA awards, "natter[ing] on about her [private part]," and frequenting Berlin sex clubs—is actually a down-to-earth family girl?
Maybe it's not such a tough sell. Lady Gaga is the iconic star of this age, and of my generation, because, among other things, she represents being in a state of arrested development. That's why she'd rather be home with Mom and Dad, where she's still the daughter—still the child—than at her hotel. Elsewhere in the interview, when she's questioned about taking the big step of buying a house, Gaga says, “I’m not going to pay millions of dollars for something. I can’t commit to being an adult—I’m not ready.” That's a telling admission, especially coming from someone who made $90 million this year and is the richest female singer on the scene. To Gaga, being an adult is the antithesis of being vital and not the accumulation of knowledge, experience, and wisdom, things that might otherwise enrich a life, even the life of Gaga.