Britney Spears has a moral duty to look good for MY benefit.

You may have seen me around campus. I’m a mouthy Mancunian with a huge picture of Marilyn Monroe on the front of my bag. I think the bag’s pretty cool because of the picture. It reeks of glamour, nostalgic films and a certain magic that stars like Monroe exuded. There was something so vulnerable and girlish about her, but also an awesome, immortal quality to her face. Today, Joan Collins is the only tangible reminder of such a glamorous era and demeanour. She is perfectly coiffed with eyes elegantly smudged with kohl, shimmering lips, fabulously tailored suits and an indefinable air of dignity. This is nothing to do with having pert/massive breasts, an ironing board stomach, long tapering legs or the latest fashions. These are fairly superficial assets, nothing exclusive. I’m talking about good old fashioned C-L-A-S-S. Films featuring the Old Skool stars such as Bette Davies, Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich (think of the lyrics to ‘Vogue’, Madge compiled a superb list) epitomised the idea of escaping into another world of wide eyed glamour, delicately shed tears and somehow beautifully tragic endings. The illusion that the classy, glamorous film stars created was not perfection. It was merely dignified, attractive, and more appealing than a world where the line between fantasy and grim reality is uncomfortably blurred.

These days, ‘celebrities’ are idolised more than ever. This is sometimes to the point of dangerous obsession - wouldn’t you be concerned if your daughter took a stick thin, cocaine sniffing model as a serious role model to look up to and assimilate? In the glamorous, ‘old’ Hollywood that I am talking about, it is undeniable that similar scandals occurred. Judy Garland died due to a cocktail of ‘dolls’ or pills. I am not saying that celebrities used to be angelic, with no demons resulting from being pushed into the spotlight at a painfully young age (again, Garland is a useful example of this). And yet, these issues aside, I am constantly disappointed by today’s ‘idols’. Britney, Cameron and even ‘Glammy Pammy’ to name but a few have all been photographed on several occasions, not just looking scruffy or tired, but really, really bad (flushed head down toilet category). ‘Ha!’ we all cried triumphantly. I knew you were ugly really! Just like me every morning: nowt special at all! But†after this cruel, vindictive side has been put safely back in the box, I personally find that disappointment sets in. ‘Is this it?’ we ask glumly. Is this what we have been longing to look like and believing the hype for so long? Where have the stunning people gone?

We agonised over them for years. We vowed to make the best of ourselves from now on and to lose that extra stone. Although there is a revolving outcry about the fact that celebrities make us feel rubbish and inadequate, I disagree with this. Obviously a personal trainer and your own St Tropez apartment is out of the question for most of us. But I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with having a small amount of incentive leading us to realise that we can all look better than we do. It’s a form of positivity, provided that you keep things in perspective. But when I see a picture of a trailer trash BFM (Big Fat Mess) with a scrawny topknot, milkshake in one hand, bottle of beer in the other, flip flops, scowl and weird sarongy thing (you guessed it, I’m referring to Ms. Spears in her caravan park), I cannot help feeling let down. Where’s the bombshell, the glamour, the illusion gone? Isn’t that what we all want sometimes, escapism? That’s why we drink, take drugs (some of us), watch films and read books, right? So surely what I’m talking about is the harmless end of the spectrum?

Nobody’s worth is measured by how much slap they wear. I would not condemn anyone for popping to the Co-Op in their slippers on a Sunday morning for a pint of milk. But hello! I am a student, and I’m paid five pounds an hour as a waitress! Somebody on an A List celebrity salary, I think, owes the public some sort of obligation. I use the term obligation cautiously. Nobody looks their best all the time. On the other hand, with that sort of time and money, not to mention on hand professional assistance and the burning desire to be famous that gets them where they all are, I expect at least a layer of mascara and a comb through your hair. Just the little things in life, really. Celebrities are only people, and like us have their bad days of lying in bed with the curtains drawn, eating ice cream straight out of the box. But if you’re going to choose the career of an icon, and indeed, it is a double edged sword, then for the love of Twiggy, BE an icon! Thank goodness for those like†Catherine Zeta Jones, Charlize Theron and the fabulous Joan Collins, some of today’s only reminders of real Hollywood glamour. It’s the stuff red carpet dreams are made of.

opinion@student-direct.co.uk

This article was posted on Monday, October 24th, 2005.
RSS Comments Feed: RSS 2.0
Both comments and trackbacks are currently closed.