Quick Wedding Rant
(photo courtesy of theconsumerism.com)
Sorry, be warned: this could be categorized as a rant. A rant against all things, in my opinion, wrong with the world today. Wrong with television, wrong with business, wrong with family relationships, wrong with reality, the list goes on and on. I’m going to address this once and then toss it to the four winds and never speak of it again.
Some trashy reality star apparently got engaged recently. She’s famous for having a sex tape and hanging out with Paris Hilton once upon a time. She’s disgustingly rich for her large derriere and equally fame-hungry family. She gets paid for being herself-bratty, snobby, elitist and just gross. If you’re that desperate to be rich and famous and inject Botox into your 29-year old forehead and own more Hermes bags than anyone should that you are willing to completely whore yourself out to anyone who will watch you eat a salad or break up with your boyfriend on TV. Everyone and their mother has seen you naked, (not a particularly pretty sight by the way) life can only go south from there. Of course, she gets engaged, with her gigantic monstrosity of a ring to prove that someone either loves her enough or loves her money enough to subject themself to the public eye for as long as Ryan Seacrest reigns and produces reality TV.
Of course, next step is the blogosphere and random celebrity rags comparing her upcoming wedding to that of the gorgeous Kate Middleton. Headlines scream “Bigger than the Royal Wedding?” When I read something like that, I have to stop to pause to think about what marks us as a society. Thirty years from now, when I look back on all the commemorative magazine special editions I have collected from the year I got married, do I want to see William and Kate or Kim and some other aptly K-monikered flea? This is our year. Our century. Do we really want “The Wedding of the Century” to be a multi-million extravaganza of American materialism at its absolute best featuring a pig of a bride busting out of a body skimming costume, or one of English (yes, expensive, not denying that!) class glorifying Sarah Burton and the late, great Alexander McQueen?
We all know how much I adore Catherine- not just for her girl-next-door and down-to-Earth persona, but for the grace with which she has handled a situation more stressful than anyone could possibly imagine. 2 billion people across the globe scrutinized her first kiss with her husband- who, by the way, she’s known for more than a New York minute- and yet she applied her own makeup. She actually has an excuse for an excessive entourage and the incredible pomp and circumstance that comes with her new title. I don’t claim to know anything about her in person beyond what I read in hordes of magazines, but the newly minted royal has a reason to be on the cover of said magazines. She is the ultimate fairy tale story; no wonder the world relates to her so. She does her own grocery shopping with her 18-carat sapphire that had first belonged to possibly the most recognizable face of the 20th century. She smiles demurely for the billions of cameras eager for a glance of the blushing bride instead of pouting her lips and strutting around with her hand on a protruding hip.
(photo courtesy of celebritysmackblog.com) (photo courtesy of chatfa.com)
The Duchess of Cambridge, in my humble opinion, deserves a bit more respect than to be uttered in the same breath as someone famous for being famous.