Fashion has become a blood sport. Its victims are the unbaptized, also known as celebrities who deign to displease TV hosts, the fashion police and bloggers looking for a Christian (Dior) to throw to the lions!
Once upon a time movie stars were immune to the critical torment. Studios controlled the media, and studios told their contract players what to wear. Designers like Edith Head, Helen Rose, Jean Louis and Adrian happily ran up dresses just for them, but like Rome, the studio system collapsed, and celebrities were forced to buy retail, off the rack, and therefore headed to Rodeo Drive, to the catacombs of Neiman’s, I. Magnum, Nordstrom’s and Saks. They simply bought the most expensive or prettiest dress in the salon. All was well with the world. There was no red carpet. TV broadcast the award ceremony, which was the main event. Bob Hope hosted in a tuxedo with tails and the show was broadcast in glorious black and white. Then 1968 rolled around, the summer of love, the youth quake, and the Awards were now broadcast in color.. Something changed in the culture and year in and year out, you had stars like Streisand show up in Scassi sequined see-thru pajamas (now modest by today’s standards). Sacheen Little Feather (former Miss American Vampire 1970) dressed up in an Apache Indian dress and moccasins. You had Cher invoking Theda Bara, dressed up in a Mackie creation that made her look like a sci-fi spider woman. Fashion became a free for all. Formality and taffeta gave way to mini-skits and crazy costumes. It was anti-fashion.
In an effort to reign in the ranks, and (bonus) sell extra commercial space, a “pre-event” called “the red carpet” suggesting Hollywood royalty was imposed. It was a win-win. Movie studios could plug their films (including losers) in a two hour long unscripted interview. The studios hadn’t seen such puffery since Photoplay and Modern Screen went out of business. Once shy stars and actors who considered themselves artists were now obligated to strut their stuff like prostitutes on parade, or like Christians marched into the coliseum, or its modern day equivalent, the Shrine Auditorium for public display. Then came the deluge.
The first few red carpets events were really special. Seeing the stars “off script” was fun. It was candid…almost. The red carpet seemed novel, if not unique. The Academy Award Shows was always big business. However, the red carpet easily doubled the shows revenues and audience share. So every wanna-be got into the act and now the Emmy's, The Grammy’s, Golden Globes, The SAG, The AFI, the Tony Award's are littered with more red carpet than the Karastan showroom. Then the music industry said what about us? So a spate of movie, video and TV awards chimed in. Now everybody looking to promote itself has a red carpet including Macdonald's and Rite-Aide. So now, if you have an opening, a premier, or open a beauty parlor on Main Street, you have a red carpet. Some people will come to any opening, including the opening of an envelope. Today’s red carpet is no more special than your grandmother's shag.
To the untrained eye, the red carpet is just a bunch of pretty people in pretty dresses, pretty shoes, wearing pretty jewels and carrying pretty purses. Nothing could be further from the truth, but let’s save the truth for later. Let’s look at a few more secrets.
Today’s Romans, are fashion critics who are not descended from royal lineage; they are the new patricians, the self-appointed arbiters of taste and style, which is a frightful prospect in itself. To be sure, their manner of dress is decadent at best, and they are as hypocritical as Caligula handing out edicts on morality. They secretly, or not so secretly, hope that things will go awry, so that they can show how clever and smart they are. Kojo, Joan and Melissa Rivers, Jay Manuel, Tyra Banks, Kelly Osborne, Ross Matthews, Chelsea Handler and Robert Verdi, make no bones about it; they revel in taunting young girls, the anorexic, and in equal measure those they deem too plump. They even go after older women, all easy targets. However, it’s a case of the pot calling the kettle black. I presume these critics do not have mirrors in their homes. Oh, rest assured, celebrities are not martyrs in this equation, they are complicit, and like devout fashionistas, are mauled by the lions and hope to be lionized. Bad press is ultimately… press. Regardless, the remains of stars, like raw meat is then cast to the bloggers who devour them like parasites, bottom feeders and Roman dogs licking the plate clean.
For the most part, fashion critics on the red carpets are mostly former comedians and models. They are riddled with angst hidden beneath their quick quips. They do have a talent for wit. They are people who think that because they can afford to buy designer clothing that they are qualified to judge its merits. They are of the belief that clothing is magical. That by wearing it, the designers attributes have been imbued into them like osmosis. Hence the spate of celebrity designers who are convinced that they “really know fashion”. It is sickeningly scary.
Many celebrities are surprisingly thinned skinned. They read their press; they tweet, pick up the tabloids and scan the internet. They are often traumatized by what people (real people) actually think about them. Indeed, it’s horrifying. Its a blood fest at a vampire convention. It’s easy being a Monday morning quarterback. It’s easy to aim low, which is what most people do. We live in a culture like the ancient Romans, which despite its artistic achievements, aims for the lowest common denominator, the uneducated plebeian. Therefore, in an attempt to protect themselves from further attack, celebrities choose traditional, classic silhouettes. The tried and true. The red carpet is often one big yawn.
Stylists cry foul! They are disappointed when everybody looks nice…i.e., safe, the same. Therefore stylists who have never designed a napkin, let alone a ball gown, malcontents who do not know how to sew, could not sketch a stick figure if their lives depended on it, will berate the work of talented designers, craftspeople and artists to make a facsimile of a joke, dishily pronouncing that a particular shade of blue makes Sofia Vergara or Gabrielle Sidebay
looks like a beached whale, or that January Jones looks like she’s wearing flocked wallpaper or a lace tablecloth from a brothel, instead of the re-embroidered lace concoction from Carolina Herrera.
Unfortunately, the fashion critics do not tell us anything about the designers’ aesthetic or design concept. They don’t know. They do not know what collection the dress comes from, they do not know if its couture, or ready to wear. They do not attempt to identify the style of dress, or place it in historical context, They seldom identify the fabric or color correctly, in fact, they do not seem to know what color taupe, puce, teal or vermilion is. They do not place anything into its correct fashion hierarchy. They do know how to interpret what the idiomatic details on the dress speak to and suggest. In short, they tell us nothing about fashion. It’s all about ridicule, not reason. What they don’t know is frightening.
Celebrities like Helen Bonham Carter, Lady Gaga and even Bjork are a million times smarter then the best critic on the red carpet. They are fashion rebels, mavericks and poke fun at the unfolding hypocrisy. They are Marie Antoinette’s dressing like a milkmaid at the Ambassadors Ball. They poke their noses where the sun don’t shine. They intentionally dress badly. They become the talk of the town and these ladies (go divas) garner more press than Lady Godiva.
“The more things change the more they are the same“.Alphonse Karr
Given what we know about celebrity’s salaries and lavish lifestyles we live through them the same way Depression era patrons lived through old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers movies. It’s still a world where cocktails, doing the Continental in nightclubs, art deco and wearing lingerie like gowns cut on the bias, are de rigueur. Its glamorous and vacuous, and an escapee from reality. It’s a vicarious thrill. Most people assume that the stars have paid for their gowns. It’s a reasonable assumption, reasonable, but wrong. The red carpet is a supermarket aisle of big business, name brands, and luxury items. Interviewers ask. “Who are you wearing?”(Clearly, they do not know, in fact, most celebrities have difficulty remembering.) Perhaps they ask because they can no more distinguish a Lanvin from a Balmain than the average housewife can distinguish the difference between Fruit Loops and Fruity Pebbles. So much for being informed on fashion.
Here’s where the rubber hit’s the road. Granted it would be gouache to ask, "How much did that dress cost you?” However, it’s a pertinent question, because with rare exceptions no celebrity would think of actually buying what they wear. Perish the thought.
Here’s a dirty little secret. Based on a stars “clout”, or Q score (a Q score is a metric developed by Marketing Evaluations, Inc., that analysizes consumer’s recognition of a product, person, or thing) which is a perfect description of celebrity, a product, a person or a thing. Based on their “Q” celebrities receive five, six, seven, or eight figures just to put on a dress, and walk the red carpet. Double that by the jewelry retailers, and compound that by the handbag designers and even marginal celebrities can make close to a million dollars in one night. Celebrities lie. Celebrities will tell us that Bulgari, Harry Winston and Kenneth Lane "loaned them" a quarter a million worth of diamonds, emeralds and star saffire’s, but this is not like loaning your neighbor a cup of sugar. In truth, the celebrity has been paid to wear the jewelry, and may receive bonuses based upon dropping the jewelers name and getting an extra bonus if they receive a picture credit. Trust me on this one; I’ve gone inside Bulgari a thousand times, they never “loaned” me anything. Alas, I do not have a "Q" score.
Holy Suffering Celebrities! Playing the part of the suffering artist, celebrities bemoan how many dresses they had to try on, how painful their Stuart Weitzman bejeweled shoes are, the days of dieting, and the hours sent sitting in the Brentwood home while their hair was done by the colorist at Louis Licari. It’s all a part of the ploy for them to suggest that glamour is really hard work, akin to labor. Do we need to know that it took Salma Hayek eight hours to get ready with a staff of twelve people attending to her? Poor baby! How much more beautiful can one of the most beautiful women in the world become? We, who are at our office jobs, toiling on our feet and working in factories, can only say to ourselves, “There but for the grace of God go I!”Regardless, celebrities notoriously guarded, publicity shy, wary of the paparazzi and ordinarily agoraphobic, are strangely chatty on the red carpet. Even Angelina Jolie who under regular circumstances wouldn’t spit ET if they were on fire will flit like the dickens with the insufferable Giuliana Rancic. Why? Because every time Ms, Jolie mentions Versace, she receives a cash bonus. Think of it like Beat The Clock. How many dollars bills can I grab?
Its takes a village. Long gone are the days when Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly and Doris Day dressed themselves, and even set their hair the night before in curlers. Now-a-days celebrities have their own stylist, and someone to get their hair done, a cosmetician and a make-up artist, the Para-medical people from Patricia Wexler for the last minute injections of Restilin and Botox, a manicurist, a pedicurist, a custom made pair of Spanx, an on hand seamstress, a message therapist, a reflexologist and even a Tarot Card reader to round out the deal. It can easily cost 150,000.00 just to get dressed. It’s hard to imagine, but back in the 1980’s (not so long ago) the only person a celebrity needed to get ready was her husband to pull up her zipper.
Don’t feel sorry for the designers either. Celebrities are courted by designers. Designers know that getting their clothing on celebrities backs (the right celebrities) can produce millions of dollars in revenues for them. It can take a ailing company and make them this year designer du jour. Celebrities are spokespeople for specific brands. However, seldom do they really believe in the brands they promote. In the most foul instances, celebrities easily break contracts, promises, disregard allegiances and switch design houses when better deals are offered. It's done all in the sprit of “cloak and dagger” and often the night before, or the day of the event, so that damage cannot be undone. Its epic in the Shakespearian sense. “What is done is done. What is done cannot be undone.”Macbeth. It doesn’t matter what assurance have been made. Chanel may design a custom gown especially for Nicole Kidman or Marion Cotillard, but presto-chango they show up wearing a vintage Armani or Dolce and Gabbana. Not because the dress is better, if fact, created in great haste its usually ill fitting, usually it’s a nightmare or worse a bore, but the pockets came lined with more dollar bills. Celebrities may tell us they care about fashion, its all horse %$#*! Celebrities do not buck the trend. It’s a mercenary business where what you wear is tantamount to fashion prostitution. Reputations can be purchased by the highest bidder. In short, it’s morally grotesque.
Despite what celebrities tell us, they do not go to award shows just for the conviviality of their peers or support of their art form. Its business as usual. Once a celebrity has inked their deals, it is not over yet; the sponsors of the awards ceremony will see that the celebrity receives a gift bag, AKA swag bag. A major award bag can easily contain 150,000.00 worth of gifts, including his & her Tag Huer watches, a full week at a private spa in Eleuthera, custom perfume, jewelry, and water especially flown in from the Brazilian rain forest. Even bags at marginal awards can fetch 30,000.00 to 50,000.00 worth of luxury items for just a few hours work. Rich people, giving themselves awards, going to dinner parties, being paid to get dressed are rewarded with more free things. It’s obscene.
Fashion is like the lost crusade. Some celebrities can be, and are in many instances socially aware and generous to a fault. In fact, I know of three such people out of about the ten thousand that fall into that category. Celebrities tend to support the liberal agenda (which by the way, I’m all for) and they do tend to promote causes that the mainstream media seldom acknowledges. Celebrities are profuse and genuine in their acceptances speeches when they ask us to think about Darfur, New Orleans, Bosnia and the Holocaust. However, one should question with the same rigors why someone who makes twenty or forty million dollars a year preaches to us about the value and importance of giving. They are the benefactors of our largesse, and is giving away a million or two anymore that we who reach into our pockets, who still find it difficult to meet or mortgage or buy our groceries. It calls to mind the parable in the scripture of Luke, chapter 21, verses 1-4, which is the story of the old woman placing a few pennies in the coin box only to be chastised by the Pharisees.
The sickest portion of the secret is that journalist have long known the dirty little secrets of the red carpet and neglected to inform us. It’s a form of delusion. A form of co-enabling. Looking the other way. Its hypocrisy. A pretence to suggest that nothing is really wrong. Are we that morally bankrupt? Do journalists have an ethical obligation to call out a liar when a lie is being told?
Are these secrets lies? Yes. Are these secrets sins? Perhaps. If so, are they mortal sins or venial?
For something to be a mortal sin, it must be of a grave matter, it must be committed with full knowledge that it is a mortal sin and most importantly, it must be committed with full consent. Meaning to do it voluntarily. Clearly, I went to Sunday school. A venial sin still allows charity to exist, even though it offends and wounds it. A venial sin constitutes a moral disorder that is reparable by charity, which is what allows it to exist in us. One commits venial sin when, in a less serious matter, they do not observe the standard prescribed by the moral law, or when he disobeys the moral law in a grave matter, but without full knowledge or without complete consent.
The red carpet ushers us into another world. The cost of the red carpet may not be worth the admission, but they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
