Written by Jo Davison
Did the Oscars’ red carpet procession of primped and preened celebs turn you emerald with envy, send you shrieking for scissors with which to shred your best Frank Usher, and have you pulling your cheeks up in a makeshift facelift?
Jealousy is not a pretty thing, y’know. And anyway, fabulous, amazing and utterly FREE dresses apart, you really should feel sorry for those poor actresses.
The awards are becoming Academic; how well you acted is only the half of it. It’s about looking the part.
Think how pressured life must be for the likes of Kate and Cate, Sandra and Penelope. We wish we could look like them, but they wish they could look like themselves. They HAVE to rock up looking as perfect as they do in the movies and those airbrushed pictures in Vogue.
Forever. Age shall not wither them. Or turn them to fat. Their image was their blessing, but it becomes their Dorian Gray curse.
I read that Sharon Stone recently locked herself in her bathroom with a bottle of wine, resolving not to come out until she could accept she was getting older. Rumour has it she was in their four months.
For proof of what happens if you don’t take Shazza’s approach, Google 2014 Oscars pictures of the legend that once was Liza Minelli, then tell me there is anything other to say than: poor thing.
I’m guessing she mugged a pierrot clown, ripped his ruff and buttons off and bagged his suit on the way in. She should have nicked his stage make-up while she was at it.
In the run-up to the ceremony, life must be such a strain for any woman with an Oscars invite sitting on her mantelpiece.
No sooner does it hit the doormat than they’re on mission impossible.
All that ab-training while living off cayenne pepper-infused hot water for two months must have them fainting all over the place. Apparently Liz Hurley stays svelte by eating just one meal a day and going to bed hungry.
All in all I reckon these actresses actually envy US. Apart from the free frocks, obviously.