Up All Night With Amy Winehouse

"I love Amy," says Nicole.

"Yeah," says Winehouse, adopting a cute voice, "she loves me."

"Amy is a very honest type of person," says Nicole. "She blows my mind. She's very special." From her lap, Winehouse mutters, "Special needs."

"She'll hate me for saying this, but her heart is made of gold," says Nicole.

"Made of wood," mumbles Winehouse.

"She's very democratic," says Nicole. "Diplomatic," corrects the lap voice.

"I want to fall in love like Amy," says Nicole. "I think I've been in love before."

Winehouse lifts her head: "No, no, if you had, you'd be dead because you weren't together."

Winehouse wants to show me her wedding pictures, but first she wants food. "I'm on a strict pizza diet," she says perkily. "I'm on a strict put-weight-on diet. I love food. I'm just stressed out." She returns from the kitchen with an oozing white-bread-and-banana sandwich, on which she sprinkles potato chips. She hands Nicole her laptop, which is caked in fingerprints and smudges, and asks her to show me the photographs of Winehouse and her husband making out, the two of them mugging for the camera like Mickey and Mallory, passing pills to each other with their tongues. Winehouse gets up for more food. Nicole continues the slide show, and suddenly the screen flashes Winehouse's blurry face, taken from above with a phone in one hand and a gigantic penis in her mouth. Nicole and I both look away. "I've never been to rehab, I mean, done it properly," says Winehouse from the kitchen. "I'm young, and I'm in love, and I get my nuts off sometimes. But it's never been like, 'Amy, get your life together. ' "

It's 9 a.m., and outside the last paparazzi leave, shouting up, "Thank you, Amy!" "You're welcome!" she yells back, then she mutters, "You fucking gooks." And cracks up. She thoughtfully calls me a cab and walks me downstairs, inviting me to join her a few days later for a private concert in Moscow, where she will be paid a reported $2 million to play for Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich. (A day later, her manager rescinds the invitation.) After the show, the newspapers report that Winehouse was drunk and Abramovich's organizers were sent into a mad scramble to search for a replacement. They say she played hours late and without underwear. Her publicist, Tracey Miller, dismisses the rumors, insisting it went well. Winehouse is scheduled to play at various festivals and concerts in Europe this summer. But in mid-June, Winehouse fainted in her home and was taken to the hospital by her father. As this story goes to press, Miller says Winehouse remains in the hospital: "They are just taking it one day at a time," she says. "In a way, it's good she's there."

[From Issue 1056-1057 — July 10, 2008]