Con Artistry

We don’t know much about art, but we know a notorious murderer when we see one.

Through March 15, you can view some 40 oil paintings of serial killer John Wayne Gacy at the Galerie at Tatou, the Beverly Hills supper club/nightclub complex where the elite meet. Included are original manuscripts from two books of Gacy’s correspondence, including letters he received from Truman Capote and Oprah Winfrey, as well as the paint brushes he used. (Gacy gets no proceeds from sales of his works).

While the exhibition might appeal to those with a love of the macabre, we wouldn’t suggest it for a first date.

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Release of the Cool: Model behavior: If you’ve been in L.A. for more than a day, you know the cardinal rule for how to react when you spot a celebrity: Coolness prevails. No shouting, “Hey, look, everybody! It’s Warren Beatty! And Annette! And their baby!” A sly glance, with a slight rib jab to your friend, is all that’s necessary.

The Rule of Nonchalance does not apply, however, when it comes to supermodels. We found ourselves at a recent party attended by some of those super-duper gals, including Linda Evangelista, Tatiana Patitz and Kate Moss. We soon realized that we weren’t the only ones gawking. Scads of other looky-loos were craning their necks, making no attempts to hide their curiosity.

Why, we wondered? Don’t models deserve the same kind of hands-off deference that movie, music and TV stars get? We can only guess that they were being stared at because people aren’t used to seeing them moving and talking in 3-D.

Or, they could have been staring for the same reason we were staring: Doesn’t she have at least one zit? One zit ? How about a small red blotch? We’ll settle for a blotch. Or a thigh bulge. A tiny one will do, really.

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He Can Dream, Can’t He? We’re fascinated--and always amazed--by what people read while on the machines at the gym to take their minds off the fact that their legs feel like hot anvils and their lungs are going to explode--everything from scripts to bestsellers to their own hand-written musings on life.

The other day, we were struck by the portly man reading Chocolatier magazine while working up a good sweat on a bike. He was taken with the “Dessert of the Decade” story, which was accompanied by a full-page color picture of a sinful-looking cake and a recipe that went on for pages. Well, we guess everyone has his own inspiration. . . .