KEY POINTS:
We bonded over boobs - my dead grandmother's to be exact.
I invited myself into Kylie's quiet afternoon tea in the lobby at Auckland's SkyCity Grand Hotel yesterday afternoon and, there I was, blurting out that my grandmother died of breast cancer. I don't know what compelled me to do it.
But the 40-year-old has successfully battled the disease, so who else would I share something so intimate with?
Never mind that she's an international superstar worth a whopping $222 million.
Kylie, to her credit, didn't blink an eye. She didn't call security and get me ushered off the premises. She didn't dismiss my waffling with a wave of a manicured diva hand.
She was glamorously beautiful, in terrorist chic dressed-down baggy cargo pants, white sneakers, a black tee and a lurex scarf she wrapped herself into like some sort of comfort blanket.
Only an hour earlier, when she had arrived at Auckland airport for two sellout shows at the city's Vector Arena, she was looking superstar glam in a tie-dyed 50s-style dress in mushroom tones.
Fans can expect plenty more costume changes at this week's concerts, part of a $24 million world tour that has already visited 21 countries.
She is likely to clock up between eight and 10 outfits, including a cheerleading get-up and a barely-there, spider-inspired dress.
But at the hotel, all Kylie wanted was caffeine: "Omigod you have a coffee machine," she sing-songed to the waiter. She ordered coffee with goat's milk, and a meal of deep fried goat's cheese fritters with chunky fries and mayo.
When I quickly pulled out my little camera and requested a piccie, Minogue agreed on the condition I was in it too.
"I can't," I shrieked, "I'm not wearing any make-up and I haven't even washed my hair".
Minogue smiled. She thought I was a hoot. Clearly we were becoming friends.
Her manager - a svelte Australian with a glossy brown mane and skinny jeans - offered to take the photo for us. I checked the image afterwards.
"How is it?" Kylie asks.
"I look like a whale," I blurt.
"I probably look like a blimp and have squinty eyes," replied Kylie.
"You do a bit," I said.
What had got into me? There I was sitting with one of the biggest celebrities in the world and I was criticising her appearance.
I was joking, of course and Kylie laughed. She got my sense of humour. Clearly we're going to be firm friends.
I wanted to ask more but her manager indicated it was time to leave.
I returned to my corner of the lobby sipping my green tea and watching her munch her calorie-laden cheese.
Kylie smiled at me and lay on the couch, making herself at home. For a jaded gossip columnist in the celebrity-critiquing business, I fail to find a negative word to say about her.
