Steven "COJO" COJOCARU never spares the rod when he critiques the red carpet. Known for his serrated wit and flawless blowouts, the toothy "Entertainment Tonight" correspondent and Montreal native lauds fashion victors and razzes sartorial tsunamis with equal gusto.
In his new book, "Glamour, Interrupted: How I Became the Best-Dressed Patient in Hollywood," Cojo chronicles his battle with polycystic kidney disease, his two kidney transplants and how he survived the sterility of hospitals. "I quickly became this Svengali and did makeovers on the nurses," he says of his prolonged stays at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. "I would say, 'Good morning. Have you ever heard of waxing those brows?' " Herewith, a look at Cojo's unflagging devotion to glamour:
Describe your personal style as a kid.
A cross between Madonna and Valerie Bertinelli meets Eddie Van Halen. I did not want to look like the other guys. I wanted to wear a tiara. I wore wide-legged jeans and silky shirts with geometric patterns.
Name your go-to outfit.
A Rick Owens beaten-up black leather trench with an old Gucci sweater, skinny jeans and my Dior Homme boots. That's my uniform that makes me feel good.
Name a shortcut to high glamour.
Move in with Karl Lagerfeld.
What is the most important life lesson you have learned so far?
Always moisturize. Right now, I'm on an Epicurean kick.
You must adore fashion because . . .
I can play different roles and fantasize. One day, I can be James Bond in a sleek tux. The next day, I can be the vampire Lestat in some black leather rock 'n' roll cape.
You loathe fashion because . . .
All of the soul-sucking, talentless, grotesque people working in fashion. No names, of course.
Your secret to the perfect blowout is . . .
I have a stable of stylists -- Love conditioner by Davines is great, and I like glossing cream by Frederic Fekkai.
Your life mantra?
Spend now. There is no Fred Segal in the afterlife.
What turns Cojo into Cujo?
Any female minutes away from rigor mortis in skin-tight jeans and Angelyne boobs. You see women who look like Katherine Heigl from the back and then they turn around and they look like the Crypt Keeper. Juicy Couture should be banned for women past 40.
If you could get someone to design a hospital gown, it would be . . .
Yves Saint Laurent. A nipped-in waist with strong shoulders in that all-season wool. I would accessorize with a red cashmere scarf in a nod to Mr. Saint Laurent.
Your must-have accessory?
My CHI flat iron.
Your signature scent?
I smell like my dog.
The red carpet at this year's Oscars will be . . .
Hopefully, resplendent with lots of goddess gowns and one or two colossal fashion faux pas.