The moonlight hits Chris Martin’s rock god halo. His eyes are like wading pools; his vibe, as good as soy. The women, many of whom are too cool to gawk at this cozy Coldplay concert after-bash, gawk anyway. Every one of them is wondering, “How did Gwyneth Paltrow get so lucky?”

Here at Toronto’s Amber, where the white noise pervades the white-on-white patio furnishings of this cathedral of Gucci and playground of Prada, revellers are also giddy about the lychees perched on skewers. Holding them up like magic wands of incandescent fruit, they’re also wondering something else: “Why are so many Hollywood starlets hogging the hot musicians? Can’t they leave some for the rest of us?”

Think about it. There are enough starlets dating rock stars to fill Ryan Seacrest’s Top 40. Besides Mr. Coldplay and his Royal Tenenbaums wifey, there’s Kate Hudson, who’s got a Black Crowe, and Drew Barrymore, who’s got a Stroke, and Liv Tyler, who’s got a Space Hog. Cameron Diaz and Justin Timberlake continue to May-December it. Last year, Nicole Kidman enjoyed a much-publicized walk on the wild side with Lenny Kravitz. And Renée Zellweger, who in recent years has out-Winonaed Winona Ryder with her array of troubadour boyfriends, stunned everybody with her honky-tonk shotgun wedding to country star Kenny Chesney.

So, what gives? While this sort of Hollywood jukebox synergy is nothing remotely new – remember Frank Sinatra and his Caesar-haired bride Mia Farrow? – it appears more prevalent than ever. Partly, it’s a trend for no other reason than it’s a trend. Starlets see other starlets with their own human iPods, and they think, “Hey, I gotta get me one!” For certain celebutantes, musicians are the boyfriend equivalent of Smart cars.

What else accounts for these famous Penny Lanes? For some, it’s simply practical in that celebrities like to date other celebrities – call it survival instinct – but dating a musician is sufficiently more exotic than going steady with an actor. And, besides, you don’t have to deal with the inherent competition and scorekeeping that goes with one actor romancing another. The men, in exchange, get the ultimate “trophy girlfriend” in a silver screen sweetie.

Or maybe it’s because the only people more narcissistic than movie stars are rock stars, which makes the movie chicks feel good about themselves. And if the musician in question happens to write his own music too, it’s doubly intriguing for the Hollywood hottie, who makes her living reciting lines written by somebody else. And, certainly, it doesn’t hurt when a manly songster can play Romeo, Romeo by penning a song for his beloved, as Chesney did for Zellweger – before he’d even met her! The wooing started long ago when he wrote the twangy melody “You Had Me at Hello” after watching his future wife in the movie Jerry Maguire.

But what’s the biggest reason for macho warblers holding a vampiric sway over so many of our Hollywood lovelies, whether it’s today’s Drew Barrymore and Fabrizio Moretti or yesteryear’s Eddie Van Halen and Valerie Bertinelli? Back at the Coldplay party in Toronto, it’s obvious from watching all the women swoon over the Brit-pop biggie in the twilight. For many of our actresses, it’s clearly a fulfillment of an adolescent fantasy: the nerdy-cool music god as ultimate high-school catch.

Or as Camille Paglia has observed, “Male musicianship is basically male lust, right at its peak… that kick-ass, knock-the-door-down, in-your-face thing.”

In other words, it’s the forbidden lychee! 

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Shinan Govani is the Scene columnist for the National Post and frequently appears on television commenting on celebrities and the social whirl. Write him at sgovani@enroutemag.net.