Celebrity tackiness

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Somewhere between O. J. Simpson’s arrest and the millionth review of what people were wearing to the Emmy Awards, I became disenchanted with Hollywood celebrity.

All that hype made me long to move to a foreign country. But I did the next best thing and stuffed an eggplant instead.

When did we become so obsessed with the brazen and the buxom?

And when did Hollywood spawn a whole new crop of starlets with names like Zuzana Drabinova and Bianca Rinaldi. Bring back Mary Tyler Moore and Annette Funichello!

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I’ll never forget Sally Field, the former squeaky clean “Flying Nun” utter a series of expletives during prime time on the Emmies. (I don’t like her. I really really don’t like her anymore.)

All this furor came on the heels of “Fashion Week” in the Big Apple which is designed to give us a sneak peak into what we can expect to arrive in stores this spring. I was fascinated with each waif-like model who loped down the runway with the gait of a camel.

They appeared so well, UNHAPPY – with their pouty collagen-enhanced lips, but I guess you would too if you have to dress up like a rodeo clown and call it haute couture.

I pondered the reason the models all looked so dour, and decided it was probably because they haven’t been allowed a plate of spaghetti this millennium. On a positive note, I was relieved that last season’s “oh so chic wrap dress” seems to have lost favor. I bought one and wore it to church twice before someone had the nerve to tell me I was wearing it backwards.

My fashion sense is limited to a commitment never to wear support hose with a mini-shirt. If that makes me a fashion felon, write me a citation.

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