ANDREW HORNERY

May 8, 2010

IN THE fickle world of television stardom, nowhere is the pecking order of celebrity played out better than at the Logies. For those at the top, such as Packed to the Rafters gold Logie nominee Rebecca Gibney, life could not be sweeter.

For Gibney last Sunday's Logies night was all about months of planning by publicists and assistants working feverishly to make sure their network's ''trophy girl'' was at her best.

Gibney had the designer gown custom made. She had an army of hairdressers, make-up artists and stylists descend before her red carpet ''reveal''. She was chauffeured around Melbourne. She was installed on the most prominent table in Crown Casino's vast Palladium ballroom with perfect camera access.

Under the lighting her golden locks glowed, enough to make Channel Nine's Eddie McGuire squint. Or was he simply reacting to the realisation that just a few years ago it was he who was sitting at the ''captain's table''?

Gibney shone with the confidence of knowing that she is now part of a hit show watched by nearly 2 million people a week and is feted by TV's ''cool club'', with Jamie Durie and Jennifer Hawkins buzzing nearby.

In the shadows it was a different affair for Logies veteran Denise ''Ding Dong'' Drysdale and her co-stars on the chat show The Circle.

On a table near the toilets exit, Ding Dong was still sparkling, albeit in an off-the-rack Logies outfit. Her show is watched by about 60,000 people on Ten, about a third of Seven's The Morning Show. Drysdale was putting on her sunniest face as chatter around the room suggested The Circle's precarious future was due more to infomercials than it was to ratings. Even Brynne ''Mrs Geoffrey Edelsten'' Gordon, who appeared to have come dressed as a Las Vegas troll doll, was getting more attention.

Not so long ago two-time Logie winner Drysdale would have given Gibney a run for her money.

Putting in a Logie-worthy effort at the after-parties was Maria Venuti. She leapt into the lens of any camera available, twirling for PS outside the Palladium. It was as if NASA had wrapped Venuti in a giant stellar organza furball that crash-landed, dumping the Goddess of Gladesville into the casino.

Among the party crowd it was clear the Seven and Ten networks were in a celebratory mood. Not so inside the half-empty Channel Nine after party, which was more like a wake. Nine's sole Logie for The Footy Show was not enough to lift spirits, which was probably why its chief publicist was busy booting out journalists who dared to stay past the 12.30am curfew.

Kerri-Anne Kennerley was busy too, fending off photo and dance requests from people she had never met. She would have been safer with a gossip columnist.