Demi Moore wears many hats on set. She takes on the role of wardrobe—arriving at the Condé Nast studio with longtime stylist Brad Goreski carrying heaps of designer bags and jewelry—lighting designer, and prop master. But Moore isn’t the subject of the photo shoot.
Today, she’s playing momager to her dog, Pilaf . The white-and-brown long-haired Chihuahua bounds into the studio, tail wagging, eyes bulging with excitement. (“I think she looks like a cross between a goldfish and Bette Davis,” Moore says.
) Pilaf greets the throng of adoring fans—myself included—with aplomb. With Moore’s permission, I scoop up all 1.2 pounds of Pilaf (roughly the weight of a baguette) and place her on my chest like a newborn baby.
“One of her best qualities is her instinctive sense of going to complete strangers like she has something to give them that they need,” Moore says, “So I usually let her do it.” Pilaf, as is her birthright, is a natural in front of the camera, poking out of a Birkin bag, a stack of diamond bracelets in place of a collar. “Hi, Mouseketeer!” Moore says from her perch next to the photographer, clapping and waving spirit fingers to turn the pup’s attention toward the camera.
“So pretty! So pretty!” Goreski concurs: “She’s luxury!” he cries. But, lo, sometimes cover girls get shy. Luckily, Moore is there to step in.
She presses her forehead to Pilaf’s, whispering words of encouragement. “Shhhhh..
.shh shh shh shh shh shh shh,” .