Fabulous
I’ve admitted before that I have a conflicted impression of Gwyneth Paltrow. On one hand, she’s elegant and interesting and has a hot husband and cute kids and you don’t see her slouching down the red carpet with her nipple hanging out. (Indeed, these are our standards for decent celebrity behavior nowadays.) On the other hand, she has fashioned herself into a kind of lifestyle guru and speaks in public about how great her macrobiotic diet and personal trainer make her feel, and how everyone should give them a try.
So, depending on my mood, I react to these kinds of statements in one of two ways. When I’m in a pro-Gwynnie state of mind, I sort of appreciate her candor. She says she likes to drink wine and eat cheese and therefore must work out for two hours each day. She does not try to tell us she maintains her figure on a diet of French fries and milkshakes and tranquil walks on the beach. She talks about how she’s chosen not to work as much as she used to because she doesn’t like to leave home in the morning when her kids are asleep and come home after they’ve gone to bed. She doesn’t pretend she’s One of Us. She admits that she has two nannies.
But when I’m feeling cranky, I want her to dial it down. Is life really so difficult for someone who has two nannies and a cellar full of wine and a cupboard full of cheese and a Pilates studio in her back yard? Five days last year she had to work and didn’t get to see her children at bedtime. How often does that happen to the average working parent? About once a week. Now I realize I’m sitting here in my comfy chair at 3:49 on a weekday afternoon, typing away on a nice laptop and wifi, which probably puts me closer to Gwyneth on the scale of most- to least-annoying complainers than to your average hard-working grocery store employee. But still! She’s advising us to buy a jumpsuit? Seriously?
So, tell me, is it better for celebrities to be out of touch with the way most of us live but at least to admit it? Or do you prefer the Fabulous People who swear they still do their own grocery shopping?
I hate it when stars think they’re down to earth – but are quite the opposite. So, out of touch, but admits it is preferable to me.
If I ever become famous, that’s how I plan to be
That’s my favorite part of US Weekly, the “Stars, they’re just like US!” part, wherein they show as many “famous” people as they can, with hair and clothes a hot mess walking to and from the grocery store.
I like it when they’re honest, definitely. Whatever that might mean. And when they don’t advertise jumpsuits that look like one big parachute pant.
I kind of like when the two get mixed – where they seem like they would be kind of normal under, well, normal circumstances, but the depth of their fame makes it impossible. I put a certain Mr. Cruise in this category (minus Scientology, I guess).
Tom Hanks seems like a down-to-earth guy, and I admire him quite a bit. I hear that he personally hands out the candy on Halloween.
Most Outrageous Recent Goofball Star: Mickey Rourke. ‘Sup with the hair, Mick? And y’know what? It was just a dog – assuming Chihuahuas qualify as dogs.
But the group that I loathe more than anything in the world are the “stars” that are famous for being famous (your Paris Hiltons, your Nicole Ritchies, your Kim Kardashians, your “stars” of The Real Wives of Des Moines…).
But nobody, and I mean nobody, should be using their fame to hawk jumpsuits. On this I will not concede.
When I get famous, I think I’ll swan around asking the paparazzi why they aren’t carrying Fendi logo drink cups and refuse to sign autographs with anything but a Montblanc pen.
Like you with Gwyneth, it depends on my mood. Sometimes I find most charming the ones who are all, “Of COURSE I have a nanny! Geezus, wouldn’t YOU if you had the money?” and sometimes I prefer “We could afford a nanny, but we don’t want to live that way.” I never like the ones who say they do all the parenting themselves, and do all the feedings and diaper changes, and never get any sleep—and then you find out they have two 12-hour-shift nurses every day, plus a nanny for each baby. (JLo, I am looking at YOU.)
I don’t mind as long as their personal trainer isn’t the one prescribing their diet. Enough! They should admit that they have at least 6 hours a day to work on their bodies, then I wouldn’t feel bad about having an hour (or ten minutes, or honestly, sometimes none!).