A bitch watched the recap of the Oscars red carpet parade with extreme annoyance. Every year people seem to get more and more Stepfordized.
Same body.
Same color choices.
Same hair style.
Same would be hot if she/he had a soul but lets not pretend that she/he wasn’t selected to match the outfit date.
Sigh.
Gawd forbid someone dare attempt an individual expression of style! Oh, hell no…the style police hunt that poor motherfucker down like an angry village to an overfed vampire. This year’s hunt featured one of my favorite people, Andre Leon Talley. I adore him...really...but he still represents a level of enforced fashion-based conformity that makes a bitch want to hurl.
Same breasts.
Same ass.
Same agent.
Ugh.
I’ve felt this way about music for some time. Oh, some original artists have been able to sneak through the filter but they are the exception to the rule. News that American Idol is opening a camp to more efficiently mass produce their “product” makes my skin crawl.
Shudder.
The thing is that the majority of people reward this behavior.
“Why did she wear that?” …as if her wearing that was a deliberate statement to you…an insult…a “fuck you and your future chil’ren so I decided to wear this shade of yellow just to offend you” kind of slap to the face.
“Oh my Gaaaaaaawd, did you see her hair?” …as if it’s 1983 and celebrities are living out some twisted John Hughes meets Heathers nightmarish popular girl from hell social reinforcement fantasy.
Jesus to Gawd, didn't a bitch earned a pass on round two of that shit?
Pause.
Blink.
Gasp as dawning horror descends.
Holy mother of retro gone bad, mayhap this is the re-birth of the 1980’s.
Think about it, chil'ren!
Overwhelming social pressure to conform to a boring ass norm.
An escalating nuclear crisis.
A super power at war in Afghanistan.
War-like tension with Iran.
Metallic fabrics.
Meryl Streep delivering Oscar nominated performance after Oscar nominated performance.
Oh.
My.
Hold it!
Can a bitch get my old metabolism back?
Any time between 1982 and 1987 works for me.
What?
The Police got back together, Arnold is Governor and Paula Abdul has a career.
Damn it, anything is possible!
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6 comments:
Speaking of fashions... I don't see what the big deal about Jennifer Hudson's outfit was... so what it had pockets... so what she picked a metallic fun short cropped jacket to go with it. I thought it looked cute. I think some folks take themselves and fashion too seriously. She looked glorious and composed.
Don't forget all the leggings/tights that you see everywhere.
It sure seems like a mid 80s flashback.
if 80's fashions are coming back... i want leg warmers!
my daughter and i watch american idol together (she's 7 and it's the one show on tv that we both enjoy) i am constantly sick of the same OLD songs they sing. of course this year there are at least 2 guys who seem to have broken out of that mold... i'm sure they will be gone soon enough.
I want to know why Joan Rivers and her daughter Melissa have decided that they have the right to dis anyone. Have you seen either of them lately. Or for that matter any of those people who consider themselves fashionable and talk about other. Some of them look as though they have not showered for months. Plus, they don't look that great themselves. What a truly strange job. They can be so mean sometimes. We all make fashion mistakes such is life. What do they do the rest of the year when it isn't Oscar season?
A friend of mine got nominated for a Bafta, which is a British TV industry award.
The guys running the ceremony paid for top-notch hairdo, make-up, designer clothes, the lot.
That's how anxious they are that people conform and make their nice award programme look pretty.
And I was thinking... if it was me... Would I take the money, the haircut, the dress? After all, I've never in my life had money or motivation to spend on that kind of thing. It seems flattering. It seems like a gift. It's hard to recognise it for what it is: A way to make the wild-shoed hairy-armpitted geeks step into line and not ruin it for the people who overdosed on style so long ago that they think substance is a white line in a pure-white toilet cubicle.
Afterthought: Everyone seemed nipped, tucked, or sucked into oblivion. Reminded me of that flick, "Death Becomes Her," with Merryll Streep and Goldie Hawn.
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