DEAR DIARY:

TRULY JULIE The Queen of Cabaret gets a room of her own!

September 5, 2001 will go down in New York City cabaret history as the day they crowned the true diva. No attitudes, no histrionics ... just Julie. It was her night, her room ... and definitely her audience.

I got to the new Julie Wilson Room at the Hideaway on West 37th early, but had to wait to be seated until a friend arrived. Another friend shared his table, right near the entrance stairway, with me while the room filled to overfull: so when my friend finally arrived, she had to sit on the floor! Finally the long line of people slowed. The show was about to begin.

Julie made her way up the stairs, "stepping without stepping," as the Yogis say, moving through space without intruding on it. Rare in a diva.

At the top of the steps, she fixed her glance on me and moved forward, grabbing my hand. "That card you sent with the flower, that was so beautiful," she said. I could not believe my ears. In the midst of the excitement, the people, the honors she was about to receive, the songs she was going to perform, she remembered a card I had sent her two months before -- and took the time to tell me about it.

The flower on the card was a print of one of Georgia O'Keefe's paintings and I remembered thinking, as I selected it, that it reminded me of Julie Wilson, full and radiant and self-possessed -- everything a great star is supposed to be.

Colette

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