Cooper Brown: Groucho life
Having a wonderful time living at the Groucho Club. I think I might just sell up the Cooperdome when the water damage is repaired and live here full-time. Everyone who tours always waffles on about how depressing living in a hotel is.
What are they on about? In a hotel you have no responsibilities apart from remembering your room key. Everything is done for you, your room is cleaned, you pick up a phone and somebody delivers food and booze. The only thing I can think is depressing in a normal hotel are the other people, travelling businessmen and tourists.
In the Groucho, I stagger downstairs to be surrounded by creative geniuses very like myself. I get more work done there than in any office. I’m not the only one thinking this way in my extended family. Victoria’s grandmother spent the last 10 years of her life in a suite in the Carlton in Cannes. This was a very bad thing for me as she spent 90 per cent of her vast wealth on herself, the selfish old cow.
She used to spend all day in bed receiving members of her family trying to stop her spending their inheritance. To annoy them she would pretend to be thrilled to see them and order the most expensive bottle of champagne. She would lavishly tip the room service guy and then drink the champagne, watching the relative quietly weep into their bubbles. Much as I admire her work, Victoria’s family are now not nearly as rich as I would have liked. It’s going to be hard moving back into reality? Cooper Out.
A handsome bald male, Cooper Brown is a 21st century success story. While doing an internship at Paramount in LA some big shots liked the Cooper style and took him under their wing. Now he’s a veteran of the shallow, backstabbing and treacherous movie industry, and he loves it.