When Courtney Love calls you, you answer. We did exactly that recently, when Love—who’s been touring in Europe to promote her new scream-o-heavy, double A-sides, « You Know My Name » and « Wedding Day »—called us from her Nottingham hotel in the U.K. Our chat (which lasted for more than an hour) with the enthusiastic, focused, and seemingly very happy Love covered topics such as her getting back into acting; being Riccardo Tisci’s first muse; the hopeful Hole reunion; her absolute loathing of flower crowns; being Net-a-Porter’s number one client; why she ditched her « social media friend » Miley Cyrus’ recent party; and, of course, her cheese addiction. Above all, it seems, Love is set on a comeback. With her slew of forthcoming projects, the self-proclaimed « grande dame of rock » is looking to reclaim the throne.
So, what’s your typical routine these days before you hit the stage? What’s on your tour rider?
I’m basically chanting and practicing my lines. I need to get back to sample size and I need to lose 10 pounds and I can’t seem to lose it. I have so much artisanal cheese on my rider and artisanal baked goods. Because, honest to God, the fucking fast food in this country is just as bad as 1974. They have not improved. I know there’s « food » in Great Britain now and there are foodies. On the High Street, they have Pret a Manger. So, they have food now, you can eat in England now. I remember in 1981 when I first moved here on my own, you still couldn’t eat. You’d live on fish and chips in the day with 11,000-year-old grease. I tried to take a bite of fish and chips last night and I threw up. It was so disgusting. I was in Nottingham and it was 2 a.m., so, you know, whatever. I know a place in L.A. where I can get a croque-monsieur and it’s delicious.
Cheese addiction is totally a real thing—right up there with sugar and caffeine addiction.
I’m addicted to cheese and sugar. As long as I can get my bits of sugar when I need it and my one cappuccino, I’m cool. When they ask me if I want dinner, I’m like, « No, I want Brie and crackers. » It’s all I’ve been living on and it’s not good for you and it makes you fat. I hate shopping, so I order off of Net-a-Porter. A girl interviewed me for their magazine—this is so awful—she said, « You’re a legend at Net-a-Porter. You’re one of the top five American clients for buying. » I live on Net-a-Porter. And I hate ordering an Italian 42, which is an American 8. I’m investing money in 8s and even 10s in some cases. It’s like, fuck, I’ll have to tailor all of this when I lose weight. This part I’m auditioning for, it’s the part of a sheriff, so it’s not a fashion look. It’s a chunky gun, khaki pants, wide ass. But you have to have a good figure on television—you can’t get away with a pot belly.
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