Love in the time of Shakira
By Elle
Updated: 2006-03-18 16:29
 For the colombian conquistadora of global pop, it's not all about
romance—it's remembering the forgotten, caring for the abandoned, changing the
world. and she really means it.
Bathed in pulsating pink light and surrounded by high-tech digital signage,
Shakira takes the stage of the Palais des Festivals in Cannes. Best known for
its annual film fest, the Palais is playing host this January afternoon to
rehearsals for the NRJ Music Awards, which may mean nothing to you and me,
granted, but is positively enorme in France. The Colombia-born singer, who
divides her time between homes in the Bahamas and Miami, is tiny, almost
doll-like— "cuddly," as her Cockney driver gushed to me the day before in
London-just 5'2" in her green Asics running shoes, pajama-style maharishi pants,
and leather hoodie vest. Having spent the previous night working on a new song
that will feature Wyclef Jean of the Fugees, she's operating, according to her
manager, on just three hours of sleep. "Two!" Shakira corrects her, crouching at
the edge of the stage. Then she flashes me a sweet, almost bashful,
can-you-believe-my-crazy-life? Smile.
 It's a perilously disarming smile too, it turns out. Because as the
ominous throbbing bass line of her propulsive new hit single, "Don't bother,"
comes pouring through the sound system, the smile vanishes and a stunning
transformation takes place. Grabbing the microphone, Shakira begins to prowl the
stage like a tigress stalking a hapless bunny. "She's got the kind of look that
defies gravity," Shakira sings, addressing an ex who has apparently dumped her
for another woman. "She's the greatest cook," she adds, narrowing her eyes, "and
she's fat free."
Shaki, as her fans call her, is a fascinating and uniquely fearless singer,
given to wriggling out of key like a blind man darting into traffic and somehow
making it across the road every time. To hear her pull off these vocal feats
live is thrilling. Meanwhile, tossing her sleepy mane of highlighted Robert
Plant curls, she aims her fierce brown eyes at the camera with such smoldering
intensity that I almost have to avert my gaze from the big monitor in front of
the stage. And that's before she peels up her T-shirt, revealing her marvelously
toned and sunbaked midsection, and begins ever so gently stroking the mic
stand...
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