Did anyone catch So You Think You Can Dance last night?
I didn’t see most of it, but I did catch a portion of Fergie’s performance of Glamorous and almost lost my dinner in regard to her outfit.
Who is her stylist? And really does one need a stylist to know that the combination of bright yellow high-waisted jeans, a pink body suit, gray cropped jacket, bunch of ugly ginormous gold jewelry and some black hooker shoes is a bad combination? I just don’t get it.
KIDS, DO NOT TRY THIS OUTFIT AT HOME….or anywhere else on earth for that matter. As I said to my sister today, it looks as though she dressed in the dark in the year of 1987. And I lived through the 80s look of colored denim and it was done far better than this.
My husband and I flipped to Bravo TV afterwards to catch Hey Paula, the reality show featuring the life of Paula Abdul. Now I love me some Paula Abdul, and my husband will admit (while adjusting his manly parts and crushing a beer on his forehead) that he saw Paula in concert in high school and still thinks it is one of the best shows he has attended (right under Tool and Beastie Boys, I guess) and finds her very cute and charming in an off-kilter sort of way.
They showed two episodes in a row, and then the two episodes again in a row (how do I know? Because in the middle of the first set of showings the batteries in the remote died and for a good 20 minutes into the second showing we sat and watched again because we were too lazy to manually change the channel or turn off the tube). This show is… strange. I watch Paula, and I like her even more. She is very witty, especially when off the cuff (“the last time I had a hit record, Bill and Hillary were still having sex”), she honestly seems to be a loving person who is lost in the media spotlight. She seems to have a staff full of idiots (her wardrobe stylist should be SHOT, her hair stylist seems to be missing the mark but stays on board because he’s a friend, and the brunette who seemed to be an assistant stylist was bitter and boring and just plain dumb) and has management/agents/whathaveyou that are milking the Paula train for all it’s worth and burning her to the ground.
After the Grammy Awards, Paula’s entourage can’t seem to find her to take her to the airport. The finally find her, after she walked alone around the streets of LA in the dark in a Valentino gown in an attempt to find the limo. She stops in Starbucks for a caffeine fix, against the advice of her manager and appears to be drunk or drugged (or possibly dog tired and just a goofy girl). She trips and stumbles getting back to the limo. There are other times where she just seems utterly loony (such as when she is in the lab making her custom fragrance) that I wonder if it is really days upon days on end without sleep (which is what she claims in the post-filming narratives), or something else making her crazy.
In one scene, Paula is changing from her Grammy gown to an outfit more appropriate for a cross-country red eye flight to host a 1AM QVC spot selling her jewelery line. Her craptastic wardrobe stylist packed her an outfit of skin-tight jeans and I believe heels to wear on the flight and Paula gets quite angry. As I feared, articles in various news publications are taking this scene as Paula being bitchy, demanding and a bit crazy. I as a woman who have endured red eye flights in uncomfortable garments feel for Paula. Her stylist is paid to dress her well, and appropriately. Paula has not slept in about 48 hours, and the only chance to get rest before being on TV is on this flight. To sit in a plane seat for six hours or so in heavy stiff denim sticking into your intestines is darn near torture. She won’t get good sleep, and unlike us mere mortals who would maybe unbutton the pants and hide under an airplane blanket, Paula needs to be always “on” and literally cannot be caught with her pants down. I believe her anger to be warranted, and her staff to be thoughtless and useless.
As we continued through this hour of a train wreck, I got more and more confused. I do k now when I have been sleep deprived, I have acted a bit goofy, sluggish, almost drunk but the actions of Paula are textbook lush. Would I act in the same manner if I were hopped up on caffeine and breaking down due to no sleep? It makes me think of these celebs who are thought to be having tantrums, canceling shows and beating up paparazzi. Celebs may be rich and fabulous, but they are still human. Take a week of flying, presenting, being “on” 24/7. Give yourself maybe three hours of sleep at most, hours of flashbulbs in your face, incapable staff giving you bad speeches to read, uncomfortable outfits to wear, schedules that only a robot can handle, people fussing over your hair and face, critics calling you an idiot, a fashion disaster, a hack. See how long it takes for you to crack. I watched this show and my blood pressure raised. I wanted to jump through the television and save this poor woman. It took me back to Valley of the Dolls and the sad stories of Marilyn, Judy and Elvis and how their management doped them up to keep them making money and fame. Paula wasn’t a person to her staff, to the press, to anyone. She was a walking dollar sign and they were abusing the crap out of her, and she out of herself all to achieve some warped ideal of success.
I looked around my little shoebox of a home, our nicked coffee table covered with dog hair, our takeout and cheep beer dinner and felt so utterly utterly grateful and lucky. It seems my husband felt the same thing, and he tightened his grip around my shoulders as we snuggled on the old couch. I’d rather be porr and happy, then rich and living a life like Paula’s. Paula, you can come over any time for veggie burgers and bad TV. I won’t gawk too long, and we’ll let you hide out and be normal and take a nap on the couch with our dog.