Crimson Carpets and Sequined Dreams

It's AWAAAAAARD SEASON!  And I love it.  I LOVE IT! 

I love it because every screwy,  thrice divorced, self-obsessed thespian will show up looking ravishing and elegant.  I love it because someone can wear a vial of blood around her neck for 3 years, marry Billy Bob Thornton, and make out with her brother on live TV, then show up in a stunning dress, pose with her leg out, and all is forgiven.  She's now qualified to be an International goodwill ambassador and wax on and on about the world's welfare..  Hilarious!

I love the snarky queens and spectacular dresses, the flowing hair extensions and over-the-top clutches.  I love the opulence and design, thoughtfulness and detail that goes into a striking look.  I love it when a movie star is a MOVIE STAR!  A scintillating, show-stopping being dazzling from afar. 

Clearly I am speaking of times long ago, as, thus far, 2015 has been a superbly anti-climatic award-season.  We've been seeing just the opposite of high-glamour on the red carpet.  It has been jaw-droppingly lame.  Disappointing.  Uninspiring and embarrassing.  Almost gross. 

I am yet to gasp from gorgeousness.

I was looking forward to sophistication and elegance.  I was hoping for ingénues dripping with diamonds and lovers, and celebrities dressed to the tens.  I assumed they'd put forth some effort and bring at least a taste magnificence. 

Assumed, because that's part of the gig!  Being untouchable and "more" is part of the job.

It’s a celebrity's job to make me think there is a lavish world of which I know naught. A world filled with beautiful people and Cartier, soirees, art, and magic. It's their job to lead me to believe there is a secret society where George Clooney is the president and forever playing hilarious million dollar pranks on the unsuspecting Matt Damon. A hush - hush, rich and famous beach full of cabanas and chilled glasses, secret A-List stuff, and private choppers going unheard of places.  I'm an easy sell. 
Make me pine for the posh package your supposed to be pushing.

I detest this “stars they’re just like us” business. No!! I don’t want to know Charilze Theron buys dish soap and Sandra Bullock's arm pits' sweat.  I want  to imagine those black baby adopting darlings know nothing but glamour and sophistication .   I want to imagine they wake up rested in silky robes and feathered high heels, taking off their jeweled Lucci clip-on earrings only when the phone must be answered for it's "that pesky press". 

My movies stars need to dazzle and full of so much charisma it hurts.  They must bare superior gifts of looks and charm, flare and glow.  If they are in public, they should BRING IT.  ESPECIALLY on the red carpet. Even more so on the red carpet during awards season!  The red carpet is a fancy feature film all it's own.  And if Sharon Stone shows up sloppy sans glam, wearing flats and wilted hair, then what's that home-schooling mom going to be wearing next?  A long jean skirt with tennis shoes, French braid, and chin whiskers?!

Movie stars should be hair and make-up, sequins, heels, and bags, hats, sunglasses, furs, boas, capes, and jewelry.  Always.  The only allowance is for face-lift recovery.  And there's no allowance for no face-lift.  I can see my mother age naturally.  I don't want to see Gwenyth do so..

NO PRARIE DRESSES or gunnysack misshapen what-nots!  No cruise-ware purchased at Cache'.  This isn't the Des Moines charity Gala!  This is award season in Hollywood and that isn’t breath-taking one fat bit.. The world doesn't want to see you in blue satin that looks like you’re going to the South Beloit Prom ....... Alone. I can find that in MY closet.  Pull it together man.  Stop talking about world affairs and do your job!  Be the fantasy of exquisiteness. Have a plunge.  Go backless.  Get dewy. Look the part. When some CW actress shows up in something I saw in the Venus catalogue, I am outraged and insulted.  How dare she?  Here's a hot tip:  If you just might, maaaaaaybe be on TV for anything having to do with creativity, performance, or beauty, then HIRE someone to dress you.  Get a personal shopper at Nordstrom for all I care.  It's enough of the thrift store finds and everyone trying to get on a worst dressed list.  Up your game dude. If you are a movie star, then be one! Be everything and make me hate you because you are so gorgeous.  Be flawless and exciting. Make me believe that your life is better, brimming with brass and ballrooms, beauty and bounty. Sell me your suave. Make me practice my pose.

You have NO RIGHT to show up in something comfortable. I’m NEVER comfortable in my clothes and rarely do my plans include a red carpet sponsored by Mercedes Benz and patrolled by the fashion police. If they do, I can GUARANTEE you 1,000,000%, that I’m not so lazy as to be comfortable in what I’m wearing! That’s sacreligious.  If the shoe boasts crystals, 7 inches, and a red sole, you  better shove your foot in it and act like it's a long lost lover.

Take off your mint green halter dress that shows a panty-line for days.  Have your hair done by a professional, not your sister's roommate.  Get a look that isn't "Ehhh.  Whatevs."  I don't care if you're from abroad.  You're in America now sweetheart, and we like excess.  If you're an artist, then create already.  It's called a fabulous look.

I'm not kidding.  If there's not something that makes want to die from shock and awe at the SAG awards, I'm chartering a G6 to Burbank for the Oscars.  Don't make me get out my Spanx and show you how it's done.  Seriously don't, my water pipes broke, and I doubt I can afford it.