For those of you who don't know...Jennifer (one of my best friends) and I used to terrorize the streets of downtown Sacramento by playing Fashion Police on our lunch hour. It typically went something like this...we would speed down J Street in Jen's Honda, music usually blaring Elton John and Kiki Dee's "Don't Go Breaking My Heart", Jen frantically hitting the car horn, while I hung out the window and SCREAMED WOOOWOOOWOOO...FASHION POLICE...WOOOWOOOWOOO at unsuspecting passersby who were in violation of our strict guidelines of fashion Do's and Dont's. It sounds mean...I know. But to get a citation you had to REALLY deserve it. I'm talking fat men in bike shorts, belly T's and knee socks. Haul him off to jail RIGHT now.
God I miss you Jen...the streets just aren't the same without us.
Anyway, though I've long since hung up my fashion handcuffs, I still find the yearning to occasionally slap them on someone for a variety of reasons. I've never made it a secret that I LOATHE people who go to Walmart in their sloppy pj's and dirty house slippers...slogging their way down the aisle taking up ALL the room with their mouths gaping open like some kind of dazed zombie with baby fish mouth. Ggggrrrrrrrr. There's also my genuine distaste for people who wear clothes that they are too fat for and shoes that just don't fit or aren't worn properly. By the way...I had a yard sale this weekend and saw examples of ALL of these things...I almost asked them to get their slacker asses OFF my lawn. If you can't be bothered to tie your shoes then wear a friggin' pair of flip flops...don't slide your feet in to dirty white sneakers and smash down the backs with your TOO BIG feet that hang over the back edge of the shoes...and for CHRIST'S sake...PICK UP YOUR FEET. But I digress...
All of these things are no-brainer faux pas. But what I saw at the gym the other day had me reeling. As I exited the locker room and made my way to my fave treadmill at the gym I saw a woman who's outfit really caught my eye. Anyone who has spent any time at a gym will see a variety of ensembles. They can range from super sporty and chic to holey t's and raggedy sweats. I'm somewhere in between as I stick to my own rule of not wearing things I'm too fat for (hence the gym membership) and I don't want to traumatize the poor guy who gets the machine behind me. Back to the lady...now I realize that there are women who go to the gym more to be seen than to actually work out but this woman really took the cake (not really...she was so skinny I'm sure she hasn't ate cake since banana clips were in). There she was, daintily perched high up on the stairmaster, lightly stepping making sure not to break a sweat or ruin her makeup, hair cascading down her bare back, and wearing...ready for this...A MINI SKIRT. Yep...a mini skirt. I thought the old man slinking as far down in his seat as he possibly could on the nearby stationary bike was going to have a thrombo.
In what INSANE world does a woman get ready to go work out by donning a washcloth sized skirt and head for the tallest workout machine you can possibly get?! The world of tramps and sluts I guess...I won't be moving there any time soon. Yes, she was very attractive and has a nice body but that doesn't mean I want an up close and personal view of her ass cheeks while I'm walking by. If that's her way of getting attention or scoring a date then I feel sorry for her and for all woman kind.
Fashion police verdict...guilty of public indecency and downright slutty behavior.
Moral of the story is...pj's and bedroom slippers (CLEAN ONE'S) belong at home, size 8 isn't appropriate when you're a deuce, your feet belong IN your shoes not ON them and mini skirts are just downright sexy...when you're AT A CLUB...not when you're teetering way up high faking a workout at the gym.
This has been another insane random observance brought to you by sweetassgal!
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Begone movie critics...before someone drops a house on you!
There I stood...hair carefully coiffed, make up excessively applied, matching accessories glittering under the marquee lights, new dress painstakingly chosen for maximum "photo op" appeal and of course...the perfect pair of metallic copper and silver python t-strap BCBG Max Azria shoes to pull it all together. Lights, camera, action...I was ready for the red carpet. Limousines pulled up front as camera flashes went off in a non-stop blur, a sea of designer shoes and silicone enhanced breasts made their way through the crowds, and security was on hand to keep it all in line. When did I start hanging with Hollywood glitterati you ask? Sorry...no Oscar award winners here...it was the premiere opening night of Sex and the City in my borough (slight nod to NYC)!
I must say...I've seen a lot in my 33 years but this really took the cake. Hoards of SATC fans (myself included) descended upon our local movie-plex dressed to the nine's and giggling like school girls ready to pay homage to the four gals (and a few hot guys) that make up our ultimate fantasy life. New York apartment with a walk in closet, check...hot financier boyfriend who knows why farting is funny...check check, all the Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo's you can fit into your vintage Louis Vuitton...check infinity. It's materialistic, self indulgent, unrealistic, escapist, completely unattainable...and WE COULDN'T LOVE IT MORE!
For those SATC junkies who haven't gotten your latest fix via this FAB new flick...I won't go into the details (no spoilers here) but suffice to say it did not disappoint. It was a whirlwind of everything we've come to love and expect from the show. The fashion was drop dead gorgeous (Vivienne Westwood is a saint and Vogue is the bible), the characters were true to form, the story line was funny, heartbreaking and endearing, and the men were eye candy strutted out for us to ogle like this year's Birkin bag. (pardon me...I think I just tripped over all the labels I've been dropping...where's a broom when you really need one!) Anyway, it was 2 and a half hours of sheer SATC infused bliss and I did NOT want it to end.
So, considering the fact that I felt this way...my beautiful friend and fellow movie-goer Michelle felt this way...a thousand screaming women in the theater felt this way...$55.7 million dollars worth of ticket buyers obviously felt this way...then why is it (she says channeling her inner Carrie writing her column narrator voice) the movie critics so badly missed the mark. Could they not see the shoe forest for the shoe trees...?
Review after review (mostly male I must add) lamented about the movies social and economical (limited they predicted...who's eating Payless Shoe Source shoe now...HA!) impact. They harped on the running time and demanded Sarah Jessica Parker do something about her mole. They called it fluff, labeled it banal, and dismissed it as nothing more than a chick flick. And here's the MOST infuriating part...they said that a movie predominately starring and geared towards ...*GASP* ...WOMEN would never be able to top a male driven flick like Indiana Jones. OMFG...what century are we living in! Are you seriously, seriously kidding me. It's a movie FOR women ABOUT women so therefore it could never really be taken seriously or actually become a box office success!?!?! Hand to god...I read it in the New York Post. Not only did the post's blogger Lou Lumenick (who looks like a Jersey bridge and tunnel neanderthal) give it a 1.5 star rating (was he TRYING to be insulting) but they openly panned the movie and tried to sink it by touting the stars ages and relegating them to wearing Depends! At the bottom is the link for the movie blog and Lou's review on Page Six...scroll way down and read for yourself.
I love Page Six as much as the next gal and I realize it's not exactly the Times but can you HONESTLY tell me in this day and age that we are perfectly fine with them running comments like "Andrea Peyser calls it "an excruciating paean to Manhattan, Manolo's and menopause that should have been sponsored by Depends...time and the tyranny of the closeup have not been kind to Sarah Jessica Parker, who at 43 looks positively ghoulish as the still-single Carrie Bradshaw. Her litany of lifestyle impossibilities continues to mount like her facial blemishes.'' The fact that this statement is completely anti-woman is distressing enough...the fact that it was said by a woman is positively mid-evil.
Now...there are a few scenes in the movie where Carrie looks extremely bad...SHE'S playing a PART people! She goes through an excruciating experience that would kill the makeup lover in ALL of us for weeks at a time and the pain of her heartbreak is visible on screen. Personally I thought it was brave and brilliant of them to actually SHOW what happens to women when they have their still beating hearts ripped out of their chest. This is what we DO when MEN destroy us. We run to our friends, down some vodka, sleep for three days, forget to eat and DON'T WORRY ABOUT MAKEUP! But I forget critics...she's a woman and therefore always has to look BEAUTIFUL and YOUNG and PERFECT to keep pleasing you...oh...and to be able to sell a movie ticket.
That said, may I KINDLY point out that the lead in Indiana Jones (god love ya Harrison but this has to be said) is OVER 65 YEARS OLD!!!!! Not ONCE, ONCE in any review by the Post of the new Indy flick did they ever mention his age or suggest he wear adult diapers! Is this really where we're at? Did feminism ever even happen? Are we still being judged by the wrinkles on our skin and how we look under harsh lighting without makeup? Is that what matters SO much that we have to put it out on PAGE SIX for all young women to read so they can grow up with the same insecurities and self doubts that we have been fighting against for the last 100 years? Basically the message is that if you're over 40 and female you have no right starring in a sexy movie and expecting it to actually make money. Apparently you need a 65 year old shriveled up penis to do that.
Breathe girl...breathe.
So the point to the movie IS (are you listening critics)...women CAN be sexy at any age, they CAN be successful, they don't HAVE to get married to be worth something but if they DO they can chose to do so any way they want. They can have 10 children, no children, adopted children, they can even date children (over 18 of course...anything younger than 25 still counts as dating a fetus). They can shop and spend the money they earn without apology, they can love fashion and enjoy feeling beautiful without being vain or shallow, they can say I'm FABULOUS and mean it without being self absorbed or narcissistic. And most of all...they can do and be all of these things as long as they've got their friends by their side. More than anything...Sex and the City is just about friends.
This has been another Insane (and angry) Random Observance brought to you by an un-apologetically feminist, shoe loving, SATC watching, movie critic hating, proudly thirty something, crows feet fighting, cottage cheese ass surviving, lover and celebrator of all things WOMAN!
Love, hugs and shoes...sweet ass gal
http://blogs.nypost.com/movies/
http://www.nypost.com/seven/05282008/entertainment/movies/shooting_blahniks_112799.htm
I must say...I've seen a lot in my 33 years but this really took the cake. Hoards of SATC fans (myself included) descended upon our local movie-plex dressed to the nine's and giggling like school girls ready to pay homage to the four gals (and a few hot guys) that make up our ultimate fantasy life. New York apartment with a walk in closet, check...hot financier boyfriend who knows why farting is funny...check check, all the Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo's you can fit into your vintage Louis Vuitton...check infinity. It's materialistic, self indulgent, unrealistic, escapist, completely unattainable...and WE COULDN'T LOVE IT MORE!
For those SATC junkies who haven't gotten your latest fix via this FAB new flick...I won't go into the details (no spoilers here) but suffice to say it did not disappoint. It was a whirlwind of everything we've come to love and expect from the show. The fashion was drop dead gorgeous (Vivienne Westwood is a saint and Vogue is the bible), the characters were true to form, the story line was funny, heartbreaking and endearing, and the men were eye candy strutted out for us to ogle like this year's Birkin bag. (pardon me...I think I just tripped over all the labels I've been dropping...where's a broom when you really need one!) Anyway, it was 2 and a half hours of sheer SATC infused bliss and I did NOT want it to end.
So, considering the fact that I felt this way...my beautiful friend and fellow movie-goer Michelle felt this way...a thousand screaming women in the theater felt this way...$55.7 million dollars worth of ticket buyers obviously felt this way...then why is it (she says channeling her inner Carrie writing her column narrator voice) the movie critics so badly missed the mark. Could they not see the shoe forest for the shoe trees...?
Review after review (mostly male I must add) lamented about the movies social and economical (limited they predicted...who's eating Payless Shoe Source shoe now...HA!) impact. They harped on the running time and demanded Sarah Jessica Parker do something about her mole. They called it fluff, labeled it banal, and dismissed it as nothing more than a chick flick. And here's the MOST infuriating part...they said that a movie predominately starring and geared towards ...*GASP* ...WOMEN would never be able to top a male driven flick like Indiana Jones. OMFG...what century are we living in! Are you seriously, seriously kidding me. It's a movie FOR women ABOUT women so therefore it could never really be taken seriously or actually become a box office success!?!?! Hand to god...I read it in the New York Post. Not only did the post's blogger Lou Lumenick (who looks like a Jersey bridge and tunnel neanderthal) give it a 1.5 star rating (was he TRYING to be insulting) but they openly panned the movie and tried to sink it by touting the stars ages and relegating them to wearing Depends! At the bottom is the link for the movie blog and Lou's review on Page Six...scroll way down and read for yourself.
I love Page Six as much as the next gal and I realize it's not exactly the Times but can you HONESTLY tell me in this day and age that we are perfectly fine with them running comments like "Andrea Peyser calls it "an excruciating paean to Manhattan, Manolo's and menopause that should have been sponsored by Depends...time and the tyranny of the closeup have not been kind to Sarah Jessica Parker, who at 43 looks positively ghoulish as the still-single Carrie Bradshaw. Her litany of lifestyle impossibilities continues to mount like her facial blemishes.'' The fact that this statement is completely anti-woman is distressing enough...the fact that it was said by a woman is positively mid-evil.
Now...there are a few scenes in the movie where Carrie looks extremely bad...SHE'S playing a PART people! She goes through an excruciating experience that would kill the makeup lover in ALL of us for weeks at a time and the pain of her heartbreak is visible on screen. Personally I thought it was brave and brilliant of them to actually SHOW what happens to women when they have their still beating hearts ripped out of their chest. This is what we DO when MEN destroy us. We run to our friends, down some vodka, sleep for three days, forget to eat and DON'T WORRY ABOUT MAKEUP! But I forget critics...she's a woman and therefore always has to look BEAUTIFUL and YOUNG and PERFECT to keep pleasing you...oh...and to be able to sell a movie ticket.
That said, may I KINDLY point out that the lead in Indiana Jones (god love ya Harrison but this has to be said) is OVER 65 YEARS OLD!!!!! Not ONCE, ONCE in any review by the Post of the new Indy flick did they ever mention his age or suggest he wear adult diapers! Is this really where we're at? Did feminism ever even happen? Are we still being judged by the wrinkles on our skin and how we look under harsh lighting without makeup? Is that what matters SO much that we have to put it out on PAGE SIX for all young women to read so they can grow up with the same insecurities and self doubts that we have been fighting against for the last 100 years? Basically the message is that if you're over 40 and female you have no right starring in a sexy movie and expecting it to actually make money. Apparently you need a 65 year old shriveled up penis to do that.
Breathe girl...breathe.
So the point to the movie IS (are you listening critics)...women CAN be sexy at any age, they CAN be successful, they don't HAVE to get married to be worth something but if they DO they can chose to do so any way they want. They can have 10 children, no children, adopted children, they can even date children (over 18 of course...anything younger than 25 still counts as dating a fetus). They can shop and spend the money they earn without apology, they can love fashion and enjoy feeling beautiful without being vain or shallow, they can say I'm FABULOUS and mean it without being self absorbed or narcissistic. And most of all...they can do and be all of these things as long as they've got their friends by their side. More than anything...Sex and the City is just about friends.
This has been another Insane (and angry) Random Observance brought to you by an un-apologetically feminist, shoe loving, SATC watching, movie critic hating, proudly thirty something, crows feet fighting, cottage cheese ass surviving, lover and celebrator of all things WOMAN!
Love, hugs and shoes...sweet ass gal
http://blogs.nypost.com/movies/
http://www.nypost.com/seven/05282008/entertainment/movies/shooting_blahniks_112799.htm
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