Day 204. A Confession

Yes, yes, I know.  I recently ranted about award shows.  Said I most certainly wouldn’t be watching last Sunday night’s Oscar telecast.  And, at the time, I meant it.  oscar fashionBut I’m a woman, after all.  I’m not ashamed to admit I like fashion.  I’m not a slave to it, but I like it.

Guess I’m trying to find a way to tell you I have no resolve.  Because  I caved.  I watched the Red Carpet.  Okay, I’m weak.  What can I say?

Truth be told, I also watched the show on and off, as well.  But I’m only going to talk about the clothes.  Except for these three comments:

  1. I thought the addition of the musical numbers helped relieve the tedium.
  2. I thought it was sweet when Dustin Hoffman looked up, up, up, up at Charlize Theron and told her she was a good dancer.
  3. Why can the Brits always manage to say “thank you” briefly, eloquently and elegantly, while the Americans blather on, incoherently, forever?

Back to the clothes.  Personally, I was disappointed.  As I have been, throughout the award season.

Frankly, I long for the good old days.  Before stylists got in on the act.  Before designers got in on the act.  Before ‘stars’ were Continue reading

Day 197. One Left

Are you as sick of award shows as I am?  I don’t know about you, but I feel like they’ve been going on forever.  But after this coming Sunday night’s broadcast of the pressAcademy Awards, I think we’ll be done.  Thank The Lord!

I am SO bored with them.  Bored with all the promos.  All the commercials.  All the contests.  All the articles.  All the ads.  All the speculation.  All the talk.  All the gossip.  All the guessing.  The lead up, in other words.  It feels like we’ve been leading up forever.

I am bored with the vanity.  And the egos.  And the name-dropping.  And the ass-kissing.  And that’s just among the on-air personalities.

I am bored with the breasts.  The butts.  The backs.  The ‘leg’.  The shoes.  The bags.  The hair; and why it’s wrong.  Or right.  The make up.  The lips.  The lashes.

Really, I don’t care which designer dressed which star.  I don’t care how many millions of dollars worth of Continue reading