BEST EPISODE EVER.

Brooke White breaking down for the last time.
DArchuleta hiding behind Syesha because he became emotional for the second time.
Natasha Bedingfield attacking DArchuleta with her lips.
Most appropriate sing out since Alexandrea Lushington.
Simon Cowell's first crush and first kiss calling in.

The only thing that could've made that episode better is if Paula Abdul had owned up to her mistake last night.

Man oh man ...

About damn time

[Photo courtesy of ecanadanow.com]
Although I thought it was between Brooke White and Carly "Hennessey" Smithson to go home tonight, somehow my long-forgotten prayers were answered and Kristy Lee Cook got the boot. This has been at least a month coming, since the only person I liked less than Kristy Lee got kicked off: eyebrow man David Hernandez.


[Photo courtesy of ArchuletaFans.com]
But since this is the DArchuleta show, how much did the puppeted David Archuleta look like Hairspray ZEfron tonight? See? The Mormon look works on these clean-cut Disney-esque stars.

But my question is: leather pants ... Mormon no more?

This is the David Archuleta Show

Sorry. Yes, it has come to this.

You may not want to read this if you live on the West Coast. But David Archuleta has become a parody in and of himself, and somehow, I still like him.

[Courtesy of YouTube user "wannnacruise"]
Let's take a look at the list:
[x] sappy, inspirational song that we ALL saw coming
[x] "the sign" (that I know that is beyond pathetic for a newly-christened 23-year-old)
[x] LEATHER PANTS

... at least he finally got a haircut.

I think he'll win a few votes BECAUSE HE WORE LEATHER PANTS.

I'm going to laugh myself to sleep tonight.

The Decline of David Archuleta

What happened to this kid?


[Courtesy of YouTube user "1DavidArchuleta" (very creative)]

If I hadn't stumbled upon it again, I would've forgotten that this kid:


[Photo courtesy, clearly, of ArchuletaFans.com]
used to have a personality, used to be capable of socializing like a relatively normal 17-year-old (well, 16 at the time, if you're keeping count), used to be able to take a compliment without looking like he was going to pee his pants, used to smile when he sang, and used to enjoy being on stage.

Get him outta there and get him his confidence back, stat!

Is it possible?

Here I am jumping back on The Hills’ bandwagon … season 3 and 3/4ths has been dull dull dull. Maybe this is the show MTV had promised those Laguna Beach parents from the get-go: a reality show that tracks the careers and academic lives of their children. The show has become such mindless drivel that the addition of Stephanie Pratt to the cast is a welcome change (and maybe the only change).

One has to wonder why Lauren Conrad is being so open to the idea of letting “She-Pratt” into her life when she is so welcome to the idea of pushing Brody Jenner out of it. Let’s face it – in the 3.5 years we have watched LC cat-fight across our screens, she has been nothing but critical, stubborn, and often times merciless in her ways. Just look at the people who have fallen victim to her inability to forgive and forget: Kristin Cavallari, Jessica Smith, Heidi Montag, Jen Bunney, Spencer Pratt … and you can, until further notice, add Brody Jenner to that list. That’s a lot of people.

Is it just that Lauren is completely unwilling to be the first to open her mouth? Will it take an apology on the enemy’s part to make things right? Maybe. That’s all she seems to be looking for from Heidi, at the very least.

On Heidi: wow. I cannot look at her anymore and think anything but “alien woman”. Her hair is far too bleached, making her hairline nearly invisible. And her hair is abnormally flat – perhaps she should think about investing in some bangs. In addition to sucking that collagen out of her lips. Yuck, yuck, yuck. This girl needs some color, stat.
She should take a hint from her sometime lover’s sister.

I am loving Whitney Port, as always. That girl can do no wrong, because she is consistently normal (or boring, depending on how you look at it). I’m just waiting for Audrina’s storyline to pick up, because this season, I am Team Tier Two all the way.

[Photo courtesy of Us Weekly]

Who will be the next American Idol?

Friends, it has been too long. Let’s just say the Italian sun did me no favors, and neither did their “legendary cuisine”. I am sad to report – after giving the country from which pizza originated – that New York wins, hands down.

As expected, I have much to catch up on in terms of celebrity gossip, but I have been keeping American Idol safely by my side. Since I last wrote, one of my personal favorites, Danny Noriega, was kicked off. But so was the annoying, eyebrow-swiggling David Hernandez.

While Danny Noriega did not perform to his fullest potential, I truly do believe he sacrificed the popular vote for self-expression. Kudos to that much. I hear he’s going to be working for Rosie O’Donnell?

And the David Archuleta pendulum continues to swing back and forth: I love him more than ever now, but am – with bated and forlorn breath – counting the weeks till he is booted off. I think it’s pretty inevitable – the hype has grown beyond his 5’5’’/5’6’’ frame and people are quickly tiring of him. With the advantage of having heard the studio versions of his last few performances, I can say that the botched performance of “We Can Work It Out” could have easily matched or surpassed his performance of “Shop Around” – if he hadn’t forgotten the lyrics with a panicked smile. I’m not sure what, at this point, he can do to make himself more interesting or gain more fans, as even his best will be mediocre in comparison to “Imagine”. That’s just the downside of peaking early.

The teen/sympathy vote will keep him going for a few more weeks, but like the presidential election, a lot of the fading contenders’ (Jason Castro, Ramiele Malubay) votes will go to fight “the lesser of two evils”. I’m still questioning whether his trip-ups are genuine or just a ploy to gain sympathy and make him appear more flawed. And for the record, the evil stage-dad rumors – publicity at any cost – seem neither to help nor hurt him.

Anyway, he’s got it made. He’s going to sign a recording contract when this is all over, American Idol or no.


[Photo courtesy of JustJared.com]
The other Mormon on the show, the 24-year-old married Brooke White is quickly losing her appeal. She continues to sing songs in the same style, with that same vulnerable, pitiful Corinne Bailey Rae chirpy rasp, and give the camera that sad smile. I’m not buying it anymore, and frankly, if it weren’t for her all-American pretty-good-looks, I would probably dislike her as much as I dislike Kristy Lee Cook (who needs to be booted off, STAT). Stop giving us your heartbroken smiles and playing the good-girl card. We know you’re a good girl; we know you’re LDS. Now try something new, or go back to Mesa and start making babies. Your clock is ticking, my dear.

And can someone explain to me the draw of David Cook? He’s good – I’ll give him that much (and the potential to be more attractive than most of the other male contestants). Maybe I just can’t see the big picture, but like Brooke White, I feel as if he’s pigeon-holed himself into a category that can only take him so far. If the history of American Idol is any indication, it’s pretty apparent that the winner will be, foremost, a pop star. Even success story Daughtry didn’t win.

Well, this week could be disastrous for some of our favorite Idols: it’s Dolly Parton week. Bless the Idols’ little souls, and bless our ears.

Comeback Rehabbers

SPITZERSPITZERSPITZERSPITZERSPITZERSPITZERSPITZER.

Okay, I don’t care. Even if he is the guv’nah of New York. Politicians are dirty, and that’s a given.

But so are celebrities …

A step in the right direction for Britney Spears? She is slated to guest star in the March 24th episode of How I Met Your Mother. Things are looking up. She looked halfway decent last night when she went out for sushi.


[Photo courtesy of Celebrity-Gossip.net]
When did Lindsay Lohan become the happy sister and Ali Lohan the pissed one? Ali’s looking okay, though. Not like she’s 13-going-on-40 or a member of an Italian gangster family. I take that second part back. I wonder what she’ll look like when she hits nineteen or twenty. The sameish, or do you think she’ll end up down Lilo’s path with a perpetual baby bump and thunder thighs? She’s definitely got better facial bone structure than her older sis. I feel weird picking her apart like this, but the Lohans are totally asking for it. Especially Dina.

A Bunch of Nobodies

The Esquire fictional account of Heath Ledger’s last days makes my heart hurt and my stomach churn. I read the first half-page and couldn’t bring myself to read on, though Lisa Taddeo’s tone seems to become less aggressive as the piece moves forward. I think what really bothers me is the necessity of two prefaces: one by the editor and one by “Heath Ledger”. The strong opening line of the piece becomes, then, farcical. The line that makes me inexplicably uncomfortable is: “But first things first: It was an accident.”

The Hills' stars Lauren Conrad and Lo Bosworth have been popping up on celeb gossip sites a lot lately, probably because there is little else to dote on and because the Season 3 3/4 of The Hills begins on March 24th. Here is the trailer:

[Courtesy of B0NZENMiKE on YouTube]
Get excited: it looks like Lauren Conrad will lose yet more friends. This is Audrina Patridge and Whitney Port’s season to shine! And Stephanie Pratt to look like Evan Rachel Wood? New faces, same dramas.

Lastly, this is too good not to share. Jesse McCartney at his finest, in his new video "Leavin'":


There are so many things wrong with this video.
1. The 90s called and it wants its wangsta bling and unbuttoned shirt back.
2. Uncomfortable much?
3. He looks like he did in Dreamstreet, which was nearly ten years ago.
4. Why are there no sheets on the mattress?
5. What was the budget for this video? I think the mattress was the most expensive rental of all – more than the third grade substitute teacher they plucked off the streets of Van Nuys.
6. Why does this boy from Westchester County think he’s anything but upper-middle class White?
7. Couldn’t they afford a more enticing third grade substitute teacher? I mean, it’s Los Angeles. Everyone and their mother has had plastic surgery and wants to be an actress.

Oh, Jesse. Don’t you realize that no one is ever going to respect you?

AL in more than one way

This first Thursday of March is crawling with depressing news: Patrick Swayze is battling pancreatic cancer, US mortgage foreclosures hit an all-time high, the student-body president of UNC at Chapel Hill was fatally shot, a UC Davis student had explosive materials in his dorm room, reporters and photographers are being packed like sardines in a can on the little island in Times Square that used to be the pigeons’ haven and my shortcut to work because of a pipe bomb that went off overnight … (Read amusing comments about that here.)

I’m okay with sharing my shortcut (today) with the underpaid journalists of the world, because I ran into Annie Leibovitz at lunch!!! I’m not going to lie and say that I am impenetrable to star-struckness, but I am also the girl who basically told Jesse McCartney, following an interview, that I thought he sucked in concert. So I’m walking along, in a rush to get to my lunch meeting, when I see someone facing me – looking at me. Someone who has that big poufy but long Annie Leibovitz hair. As I approach with my less-than-stellar vision, I realize it is Annie. When the girl walking just ahead of me realized it too, she turned back, which is when Annie scooted out of the way, towards the curb.

As I walked away, all these random thoughts ran through my head: wasn’t I just thinking about her this morning? (I was.) What was I thinking about? (Something creepy, you don’t want to know.) Oh, and yeah, she was on that ABC special on the British monarchy on Sunday – no, Monday night. It just so happened that I managed to watch at just the right moments to catch the only parts I really wanted to see – the Leibovitz parts. She called the Queen “your majesty” half-mockingly and a little apprehensively, as if she were a real Brit and believed in that sort of thing.

And now, writing this, I am remembering that I not only thought about Annie once this morning, but again when I was reading mail at work about the Corcoran Gallery in D.C., and how bummed I was to have missed Annie’s photo exhibition there in January.

I’ve never been as pleasantly flummoxed by someone so very much out of Young Hollywood, but come on you guys, I witnessed a piece of living American history (and my exchange with Mayor Giuliani does not count, no matter how much he did to clear Times Square of the prostitutes who would’ve inevitably been hurt taking my shortcut home from work last night). No, Annie deserves better than to be put in a category with him. She’s an American legend.

[Photo courtesy of ScandinavianDesign.com]

The search continues for the next American fill-in-the-blank

Surprise, surprise. Hillary Clinton is still in the game, and still keeping things precarious for the Democratic party. I’m not placing all the blame on her, but the closer we’ve come to November, the more apparent it’s become that the Democrats need Barack Obama on their ticket if they want to beat John McCain.

Props to Mike Huckabee for finally coming to his senses. What a waste of time and money.

The playing field on American Idol evened out a little bit last night, as favorite David Archuleta gave an inevitable but potentially strategized average performance of Phil Collins’ “Another Day in Paradise” and formerly average performers David Cook and Michael Johns rose to the challenge.

Last night was the first time I did not think Simon Cowell’s criticisms were dead on. I thought Chikezie did a fine job of Luther Vandross’ “All the Woman I Need” and that pretty boy Jason Castro’s rendition of Leonard Cohen and Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah” was really nothing special.

Luke Menard has been in this competition three weeks too long and needs to be booted on Thursday and Danny Noriega continues to try to shock audiences while doing a poor job of it, though he definitely has star quality. In fact, I’m beginning to see his oft-noted resemblance to Miley Cyrus.

And I’m waiting for David Hernandez to be booted off, if for no reason other than the supposedly-scandalous photos (I haven’t seen; don’t care enough) and his skeevy past as a male exotic dancer. He’s a good enough singer to stay in for now, but the use of his face to seduce the audience (namely with his eyebrows) is a huge turnoff. Somebody tell him to stop.

There’s probably a good reason I’ve never been able to make it through an entire season of American Idol: when everyone can sang, it’ll come down to differentiating talents by their increasingly annoying quirks. David Hernandez and his eyebrows, DArchuleta and his flappy lips … as for Danny Noriega, he is himself a quirk, so he can only run the risk of being madly loved or wildly hated.

[Photo courtesy of AmericanIdol.com]

When does gender come in?

[Photo courtesy of Miramax Films]
There has been much discussion about single-sex education in the major papers in the past week, which has inevitably led to prickly discussions about gender and gender politics.

While these articles have focused on the adolescent mind and how a single-sex education can shape it, I can offer you a different perspective: that of a female who attended co-ed schools throughout her formative years and found herself in a single-sex environment for “higher education”.

Straight off the bat, I can tell you that unless you are a lesbian or bisexual or contemplating testing the waters, the social life at a women’s college is going to suck. The options are limited, particularly since most of the remaining women’s colleges are nestled in tree-filled forests and often a lengthy bus ride away from civilization and/or the opposite sex.

Sure, there are parties (or mixers, which some of the more traditional parties are called) on campus to which males from the East Coast over flock towards. But again, anyone willing to squeeze 16 to a station wagon from Princeton, New Jersey to middle-of-nowhere Massachusetts is something most people would call “desperate”. Alas, whether they are desperate or not, they are labeled as such and most girls and boys wind up going home alone, however far away it is.

Now that we’ve established that fact, let’s take a look at the reason most people go to college and the reason your parents are thunking down 160 thou or more. It’s true, academic life without the opposite sex is sweet. But probably not for the reasons you may expect: if you wish to become less timid in the classroom, chances are you would have already developed as such in middle or high school. The timid ones stay timid, unfortunately, and the contrast may be even more drastic at a women’s college, because students who opt to attend such a school are self-selecting. What you have, then, is a stigma placed around “that girl”, which often number more than just one per class and often reach nearly 50% of the class total, depending upon discipline. Which, from an optimistic standpoint, is good: you are competing against the cream of the crop. If you’re in the competition at all.

What a women’s college offers you that cannot be said for most other colleges, is the lay of the land when it comes to extracurricular activities. Because so few women wish to attend a women’s college, the top rungs of each extracurricular ladder is easier to reach. But beware of the politics upon ascension, and above all, watch what you say.

Those are the basic answers to the basic questions everyone seems to have if they are thinking of attending a women’s college. I’ve been out now for 9 months and I’m adjusting (which is a whole other story for another time). In skimming the articles and comments readers made on single-sex education, these are my thoughts on single-sex primary and secondary education: it is ideal.

More than at college or university, gender roles and politics really come into play in primary and second education. (Sensitivity to gender and gender politics is another blessing of going to an all-women’s liberal arts college.) Do you want to send your child to a school where they will pretty much be taught in accordance with either sexist or feminist ideals? Most public schools subscribe to the gender roles society seems to have predetermined for us. Those who have gone to single-sex primary and secondary schools say that they were offered much more of an opportunity to explore the arts and theatre, things that boys would likely have shied away from in a co-ed environment. Of course, if you are afraid of loosening gender roles too much, single-sex environments may not be the best for your child.

But for educational purposes, and to “make” your child more worldly, a single-sex education is ideal. Boys and girls are “made” differently, though this in and of itself could be a cause and an effect of the patriarchal society we live in, and should be catered to accordingly. But ultimately, if we’re going to undo any of the society-instilled gender roles that we have been born into, a single-sex education is the best way to go about it. Never mind being deprived of socializing with the opposite sex: he or she can make up for it when they reach college. Who cares if single-sex educated girls are particularly promiscuous in college? There’s no better time than college to live life on the edge, that's what I’ve learned.

We are not afraid, someday

What a lame day in news. Seems like everyone spent the weekend watching the Little People, Big World marathon on TLC as I did.

In fact, it seems as if Marion Cotillard, who was fast becoming American’s next foreign sweetheart, was so bored with the lack of news that she went out and stirred up some controversy. Well, actually, the writing was written on the wall late last year, but it took a while for Americans to care enough about her to find it.

If you haven’t already heard, she spoke out on the September 11th attacks and said that "I think we're lied to about a number of things …” and that the attacks were committed because “ by 1973, and to recable all that, to bring up-to-date all the technology and everything, it was a lot more expensive, that work, than destroying them.” To bring offense beyond just the Americans, she continued on, "I saw plenty of documentaries on [man landing on the moon], and I really wondered. And in any case I don't believe all they tell me, that's for sure."

Are there any Scientologists in France?

In other news, Aaron Carter was arrested for marijuana possession nearly two weeks ago in Texas, and no one cares. Rumors have been swirling that Mischa Barton will soon join the cast of Gossip Girl, but I think that’s too campy, even for Josh Schwartz. Lastly, many are looking at Hillary Clinton to drop out of the Democratic race tomorrow. We shall see, and then overcome.

[Photo courtesy of JunctionEagle.com]

The Decline of the WASP

[Courtesy of iamigor on YouTube]
To many, William F. Buckley, Jr. may have represented modern conservatism. To others, an impressive – if not downright unusual – command of the English language. To me, the American WASP.

He is often cited for his “idiosyncratic” accent, having learned Spanish first in Mexico, French second in Paris, and English third, in London at the age of seven. In linguistic terms, he had a cross between the Mid-Atlantic accent and British Received Pronunciation, and was often referred to as an example of the Boston Brahmin accent.

The accents of the upper crust have changed dramatically in the past 50 years as immigration patterns have changed and the lines between social classes (and races) have begun to blur. But on the flipside, so have the accents of the lower classes, at least in New York.

New York City’s amNY recently did a study of the trajectory of the New York accent. While not exactly pleasant to the ear (though more so than the Boston accent), it is a trademark of the city that never sleeps. According to famed linguist William Labov, the New York accent is still “hanging on”, though far less so than other regional accents.

Daniel Brook, the author of a 2003 article in “The Next American City”, claims that the New York accent left when Giuliani came in and “cleaned” the city and drove rent prices so high that many natives fled, with their accents in tow.

Education too, is to blame. So is the influx of fresh-faced college graduates to Manhattan for work, which has not only encouraged the gentrification of the city, but has also altered the accent. In Queens, home of much of the 7-train line (jokingly called the “International Express”), the exodus of Asian immigrants is speculated to eventually change the way New Yorkers speak.

Let’s look at some examples of the transgression of the American accent in pop culture: Paris Hilton has a nondescript American accent, while her mother Kathy lets slip her 20th century-possibly-mid-Atlantic accent every once so often. The one that is so very common in actors from the early 20th century through the early 80s. (“Pair-us”, she called after her eldest trainwreck, and not “Pa-ris” or “Pair-is”.) Even Backstreet Boy Nick Carter, if you’ll believe it, once had some of that charmingly lethargic mid-20th century accent in him, despite being born into no money (negative money, even). Of course, he lost it in the early nineties and adopted a displaceable wigga accent, something I will not get into here.

So is this transgression good or bad news? The concession of legacy (or heritage, depending on where you’re standing) towards the democratization of America? Sounds like our big ole melting pot, all right.

“Quarterlife”’s halflife is .0146 seconds

[Photo courtesy of Dosbit.com]
If the creators of the new NBC drama Quarterlife were aiming for a sense of the quarter-life crisis that often plagues 21 through 29 year-olds, they should have highlighted the crisis part of it, because most people don’t live till the age of 100 and the angsty characters introduced to us last night seemed more like 19 year-olds than 25 year-olds.

As someone only a little over two years younger than the presumed age of the characters and is going through her own quarter-life crisis right now, I found the execution of the idea to be appalling. It’s pretty clear that creators Marshall Herskovitz and Edward Zwick, who are the geniuses behind My So-Called Life, Once and Again and thirtysomething have lost or never were in touch with Generation Y. (Or Millennials, MTV generation and iGen, as it were.)

The 26 year-old protagonist Dylan, played by 27-year-old Harvard University graduate Bitsie (nee Elizabeth) Tulloch, is nothing short of gratingly aloof and self-indulgent. Which is fair – Millennials are known to be self-indulgent, and the typical blogger probably even more so. But they are also – I say this with the understanding that I am speaking of Millennials as a whole – extremely self-aware. For starters, what sort of blogger:
a) blogs thinking that no one will read/watch their material? There’s a difference between an online journal and a blog, which is a nuance I’m not sure either creator understands. Blogis gratia blogetus. Or something like that.
b) has live-in friends who don’t know about her blog or are completely unaware that they’re featured on said blog?
c) will risk their friendships and jobs to blog? Anyone under the age of 28 can understand that anything revealed online can and will be discovered by the very parties who said revelations were not meant for.
d) is naïve enough, at 26, to be that candid and unedited in front of an internet audience?

Okay, maybe I just can’t wrap my head around the complete indiscretion and self-centered obliviousness of Dylan. But other quirks of the show that are less quirky than irksome:
- Do they live in Chicago? According to the show’s official site they do. Shouldn’t they live in Los Angeles? Half or more of them are budding filmmakers and/or actors. No wonder they’re so hopelessly angsty.
- Aren’t twenty-something guys typically smoother and cynical than Jed? Even if they are sensitive and wounded?
- I don’t know any twenty-somethings who grab and hug each other every time they enter their shared living quarters. In reality, coming home would involve a lot of passive-aggressiveness and some measure of door-slamming.
- Is the ADD-styled editing of the show supposed to reflect Generation Y’s impulsiveness? It’s as if the editors were on crack. I’d probably have to be too, to scour through the rambling footage.
- Who in their right mind thought an entire social network could be created out of this show? None of the characters are sympathetic enough for me to want to watch a second episode, let alone enter their poorly represented blogosphere? “Lonelygirl15” did a better job in its pilot episodes, on all counts.

There’s probably more, but I lost interest. And my dad interrupted (perhaps I don’t have complete authority on what it is like to live with peers post-college). But if this show is meant to appear as if twenty-somethings have written, filmed, edited and broadcasted it, it fails miserably. No twenty-something would allow their peers to see them as whiny, angsty teenagers.

And if my disdain for the show is shaped at all by the two-year age difference, then I’m not sure I want to see my 25th year.

Imagine all the people sharing DArchuleta

It has come to my notice that David Archuleta is not only a Simon Cowell favorite, but an American Idol favorite. This worries me, as I would like to consider myself out of the show’s target audience (not in age, but in spirit). Does this mean that I am as average as the next person? This is not what I (or my parents, who have tirelessly seen me through a number of elite – or elitist – institutions) want to hear!

However, it does make me feel better that the fourteen-year-old platinum blonde with braces in the audience cheered for one of the many (older) Jasons and not for little DArchuleta.

My loyalties are contemplating a shift a little amongst the men of the Top 20, as Jason Castro gave a weak rendition of Andy Gibb’s “I Just Want To Be Your Everything” and another David -- Hernandez put himself on the map with The Temptations’ “Papa Was A Rolling Stone”. Danny Noriega was reliably first-rate with The Carpenters’ “Superstar”, and DArchuleta gave a solid performance of John Lennon’s “Imagine” that brought the soft Paula Abdul to tears, claiming that it was “one of the most moving performances I have ever heard”, with Randy Jackson labeling it one of the best performances in Idol history.

Really?


[Courtesy of RadioKalin at YouTube]

I am Team Archuleta all the way (or as far as this road leads before it reaches trainwreck territory), but I didn’t feel his performance was as heartfelt and moving as McDrunky Abdul (what is up with her inability to enunciate?!) did. He could have sung it more tenderly in parts, though he was pitch-perfect last night. His “one to beat” performance seemed to have boosted his self-confidence considerably, though his laugh is still as endearingly donkey-like as ever.

Fortunately for him, America is far more prepared for a Mormon Idol than they are for a Mormon president.

Bitch may be the new black, but Chelsea is the new bitch

As the presidential race tightens its grip around Hillary Clinton’s neck, former first daughter Chelsea has been stepping up to the podium to do some damage-control. She was very purposefully kept out of the spotlight during the White House years when she entered as a frizzy-haired 12-year-old and surfaced a well-adjusted Stanford University junior. Now nearing 28 years old (her birthday is tomorrow), Chelsea is ostensibly doing this on her own terms.

Which means, for the most part, no interviews.

So what we can gather about this budding politician (don’t pretend you weren’t waiting for it) comes mostly secondhand and through her political presence at her mother’s rallies. To many college students, even those who consider themselves well-versed in politics and Hillary Clinton, she comes across as an encyclopedia of policies and comebacks. The New York Times quoted the founder of the University of Wisconsin at Madison “Students for Hillary” chapter as saying that Chelsea’s knowledge of nuclear base loads was “a little over my head”. Another student entered the room an Obama fan and left questioning his loyalties after feeling that Chelsea “came off as more of a regular person answering questions, but with an incredible amount of knowledge.”

Which is exactly what Chelsea was positioned to do. Except, when it comes to it, Chelsea’s wealth of knowledge would not or should not affect her mother’s presidency.

Chelsea has done a phenomenal job of staying out of the spotlight in her time at Stanford and the years following it. She had a short fling with fame and the spotlight while at Oxford as an early 20-something, but quickly renounced the Lindsay Lohan brand of glamour for a well-paying consulting job at McKinsey & Company in New York City. She left McKinsey in 2006 for a yet more rewarding position at Avenue Capital Group, a hedge fund. Currently on leave for her mother’s campaign, she is attracting attention from the media for her sudden emergence as a graceful amalgam of her parents: what she did not select from the gene pool in looks, she selected in personality traits.

New York magazine says her voice is “calm, conversational – none of Hillary’s proclivity to hector” and she is capable of “poking fun at herself in ways her parents seem utterly incapable of.” And surprise, surprise: when all of America was laughing or snickering, at best, at her frizzy strawberry mess and uneven complexion, she was perfecting her mojo. NY Mag dares to label Chelsea a flirt, a quality likely derived from her father. And the unreasonable intelligence, from her mother.

But Chelsea seems, above all, to have developed a mischievous assertiveness through it all, one that could serve her mother as much as it will serve her:

“The press is still all over me in London, but on the Continent, I can do what I want,” Chelsea told Women’s Wear Daily during the fashion shows, breaking her no-interview rule. When Harry Benson showed up unannounced at Oxford to shoot her portrait for a Vanity Fair profile, Chelsea agreed to pose for him without consulting her mother. “I’m a big girl now”
- New York Magazine.

For now, she is just a mother’s daughter, doing all she knows to do in support of a loved one who has exhibited her, hid her, betrayed her, and is now profiting off of her. Chelsea has done well for a child of two politicians of notoriety, and has inevitably picked up a trick or two. In time, she will rise as the bitchiest Clinton of all, thickly veiled with her polished turns of phrase, cool composure, and refined shows of tenacity. It will be her choice to enter into the game that made her family famous, but she will indubitably be the most emotionally poised Clinton to continue the dynasty. If America will have Hillary.

[Photo courtesy of Getty Images]

You're So Money

So, this thing called The Academy Awards. No huge surprises there, except Marion Cotillard’s win for Leading Actress. Her speech was endearingly incoherent and involved the words "Thank you life, thank you love” and a somewhat naïve exclamation of love for the city of Los Angeles, sort of.

But the best speech of the night goes to Le Mozart des Pickpockets director Philippe Pollet-Villard, who is French: “Thank you, thank you very much. I don't really speak English. I'm very bad student. I can say I'm very happy and I want to thank my producer Fabrice Goldstein and Antoine Rein and my wife Gaby and my son Sebastien. And merci beaucoups et puis a bientot pour un film plus grand. Merci. Au revoir.”

Of note, the JCPenney American Living commercials premiered during the Oscars, possibly being one of the few retailers to treat the broadcast as a refined Super Bowl. The commercials feature gorgeously idyllic scenes of family and love in New England autumn landscapes. What you don’t know, as Alison Krauss and Robert Plant sing a serene Americana song about leaves in red and gold, is that this is a JCPenney ad. It appears to be a Ralph Lauren commercial, and you expect to see teenagers dressed in outlandishly preppy pink polos and rugby shirts, sharing a first kiss on a swing facing a lake over which the sun is setting. It’s money, in its truest American form – a haughty turn of the nose to the nouveau riche and a tip of the hat to those whose descendants came with the Mayflower and settled in beachfront villages around Massachusetts and Cape Cod.

And it is. Money. And a Ralph Lauren creation.

Well, somehow the commercials seem to have made a large enough splash to those who are struggling to become the next nouveau riche. Moments after the Academy Awards went off-air and winners rushed into the press room to give more eloquent acceptance speeches, bloggers the country over were asking, “What’s the name of the song in that JCPenney American Living commercial?” (It’s “Killing The Blues” by Alison Krauss and Robert Plant.) “Where can I find the commercial?” (Here. There is, too, a third version of the commercial, featuring "Let's Dance" by Chris Montez, and a more youthful and less reverent look at the founding families of America.)

Just over six hours after the 80th Annual Academy Awards rolled up its red carpet, YouTube user “matousek1024” uploaded low-quality versions of the commercial for all of America – rich and poor – to enjoy. Several YouTube users were so desperate to spread the hope that they captured the commercial on video and posted their less-than-true-color versions. JCPenney may not make a buck off of the rich or the poor, but it has caught our attention, even if for a little while.



Close your eyes, and imagine that it’s not slushy February outside your window, that you are strangely European looking, though still blonde and still beautiful, that your last name is Endicott (see: Boston Brahmin), and you own an expansive plantation-like mansion in Hyannisport and think the scum of the earth gather in Provincetown. Yay for bringing back the good times and charging more for it than Abercrombie and Fitch does. Enjoy.

Gold-Leafed

The March issue of Domino magazine is green-themed. Which is all well and good, except for the fact that it’s done in a stiff, patronizing manner. Case in point: model-“activist” Lauren Bush’s mini-guide to traveling green.


[Photo courtesy of DominoMag.com]
9:00 a.m. Wake up. Start the coffeemaker with some fair-trade organic Cafe Femenino Peru, which is produced by Peruvian and Mexican women's cooperatives (groundsforchange.com). I'm catching a noon flight from New York to Houston, where I grew up. Time to pack. Fast.

First sign that she thinks she’s holier than thou – her flight, which is revealed a little later, is at noon. What ever happened to being there two hours beforehand?

9:05 a.m. Drag out vintage duffel bag from the thrift shop at Housing Works, a nonprofit that helps low-income and homeless people with HIV/ AIDS (housingworks.org).
Here “vintage” is an expensive euphemism for “used” in every sense of the word.

9:10 a.m. Lay out the basics— socks, undies and supersoft organic Loomstate T-shirts (loomstate.org). Move on to the toiletries. I always bring my chemicalfree Dr. Hauschka tinted day cream for a little post-travel color boost (drhauschka.com).

9:27 a.m. Take a break from packing to enjoy coffee and make myself two cage-free eggs over easy, with a little cheddar cheese on top.

9:51 a.m. Search for my iPod and petroleum-free lip balm (kissmyface.com) to throw in my carry-on FEED bag (see caption, below image). Time is running out, so I stop planning what to take and stuff the duffel with casual favorites, including a denim baby-doll dress from Linda Loudermilk (lindaloudermilk.com) and Maasai bracelets from a trip to Africa.

10:00 a.m. Phone rings—Ozocar is here. This genius car service uses exclusively hybrid vehicles. (ozocar.com) Grab an organic apple for a plane snack and hurry downstairs to the cobblestone streets of the West Village, where my apartment is. Although there's little green to be seen in NYC, urban living is inherently eco-friendly.

Yes – that is if you take public transportation or walk everywhere.

10:39 a.m. At the airport, breeze through check-in and hustle to security. Reluctantly send my Toms slip-ons down the belt (I forgot to wear socks—yuck) and walk barefoot through the metal detector. I'm a big fan of the Toms business model: For every pair you buy, the company gives another to a needy child (tomsshoes.com).

10:41 a.m. Stopped by a security guard who discovers my biodynamic calendula moisturizer (jurlique.com) and wants to toss it. Argue with her not to—I had clearly used more than half of the four-ounce tube! She won't budge so I relent, knowing my tiny jar of Tammy Fender Antioxidant Creme got through.

Aw, poor little rich girl. Just because you’re the President’s niece does not give you special rights to send a $67 tube of moisturizer through just because you were too lazy to pack in advance and think about security regulations.

11:41 a.m. Finally on board. Take out a used copy of The Kite Runner I bought at the Strand (strandbooks.com).

There’s also something called the library. Or Amazon.com, you pretentious biatch.

12:00 p.m. Up we go. Put on some of the Tammy Fender (tammyfender.com) and then doze off.

12:44 p.m. Wake in a panic. I neglected to offset my carbon emissions for the flight! Make mental note to do this later (carbonfund.org) and drift back to sleep.

Hmm, maybe we should offset all the wrong we have ever done by dropping a wad of cash, too? Some activism!

2:24 p.m. Reach into my bag for that apple. Aware of someone coughing a few rows back, I slip a vitamin-packed Airborne tablet into my water. Pull out journal (made of postconsumer paper, naturally) and sketch out clothing concepts. I studied fashion and I love to play around with eco fabrics like bamboo and hemp-silk. I designed my outfit (above) for an Earth Pledge benefit (earthpledge.org).

2:56 p.m. Pilot announces descent. Apply lip balm.

What, no unabashed plug for Lizard Lips or Kiss My Face? Guess a fledging eco-friendly brand couldn’t afford you, Miss Laura Bush, or Domino magazine.

3:23 p.m. Land. My dad picks me up in his Toyota Camry Hybrid, which gets a solid 30 mpg (toyota.com).

6:42 p.m. Dinner with family and friends at our favorite Mexican joint, Molina's. Being one of the rare Texan vegetarians, I opt for veggie tacos. At age 4, I realized that meat came from animals and have not been able to eat it since.
So pretentious I’m not even sure what to say.

8:30 p.m. Return home in a food coma and veg (ha-ha).

10:57 p.m. Crawl in bed, review the day ahead and plan tomorrow's outfit. Decide on my super-easy-to-wear John Patrick Organic cashmere slip dress (johnpatrickorganic.com). Night-night.

Because, clearly, in a world where children are dying of HIV/AIDS and rainforests are being deforested, her outfit is of the utmost importance.

I’m no tree-hugger, but could Lauren Bush be any more self-righteous? How much is Domino paying her for all this? Or maybe they’re giving her these “eco-friendly” beauty products in exchange for her services. Also, a shoe that benefits needy children does not a green shoe make. Get it straight, bitches!

The Next Zac Efron

My usual routine with American Idol is to watch the auditions for gems like Ian Benardo, followed by a couple of episodes along the way, just to have something to talk about if dinner conversation ever deteriorated to American Idol. I’d never before seen a top 24, nevertheless a top 12, episode. This season, I have been following the show from its first audition and am going to test myself to see how long I can last.

Remember when American Idol was only on once, twice a week? My, my, how far it has come. The top 12 guys performed in front of a live audience last night, and it became really apparent who is mere amateur material and who has what it takes. I’m no Simon Cowell, but my favorite guys thus far are David Archuleta, Danny Noriega and Jason Castro.



[Photo courtesy of AmericanIdol.com]
Let’s talk David Archuleta for a moment: he is not, by way of personality, someone you would expect to have gotten this far. He is a pubescent Zac Efron: young -- seventeen, and self-deprecatingly charming. But he can sing. He is, as the abominable Ryan Seacrest said, extremely likable. Even Simon likes him. But does that automatically qualify him to be among the top runners for the title of American Idol?

I’m torn on this one. American Idol could be a horrible curse for Archuleta, exploiting him at a young eighteen and spitting him out before he’s twenty-one, leaving him debilitated and dependent, (at worst) a male Britney Spears. Or it could thrust him into a very dim limelight for a longer period of time, allowing him to pursue his dreams at his own accord, struggling in a way that would never allow for the birth of a diva.

At worst, he would return to Murray High School in Utah, finish off his final year, and jump on the road as a stand-in for ZEfron on the High School Musical tour. If (high school) musicals are still hot in a few years, Archuleta will have gained some confidence and groomed his charm enough to surpass Zac Efron at his own game … and in youthfulness, vocal ability, and looks.

Ya dig?

Now, let’s take bets on who DArchuleta will choose as his beard, and whether he will be desperate enough to stand by her side when her cell phone sex “tape” surfaces. Except his Mormonism (Utah brand, no less) might stand in his way.

[Photo courtesy of LDSFilm.com]

Cory Kennedy is Dead

[Photo courtesy of thecobrasnake.com]
I don't think even Cory Kennedy-Levin believes in her one-time internet It status anymore. The Cobrasnake, which put her on the It list register, probably realizes this too, and is selling "premium" Cory Kennedy t-shirts while her star is still bright enough to see with the naked eye -- for a mere $109, you too can prance around where no one knows or cares about Cory with Cory Kennedy-Levin's face splattered over your chest.

She has put on a couple of pounds over what feels like the five years since she became a fashion icon for people mostly in countries where cannabis is legalized and lost that gaunt, wholesome lost soul look she once possessed. Instead, she looks like a greasy, homeless heroin addict. And somehow, she's been seventeen for twelve years now. (Okay, to be fair, she turned eighteen just last week.) New York magazine, however, seems not to have caught on. It featured Cory a couple of weeks ago in a Fashion Week feature, in which they published a chain of text message conversations between The Cobrasnake's Mark Hunter and Ms. Kennedy-Levin:

COBRASNAKE NETFLIX NEW YORK: How’s the gucci thing
CORY NYC: So freaking weird
CORY NYC: I mean
CORY NYC: I’m just staring at tome cruise and katie holmes
COBRASNAKE NETFLIX NEW YORK: That’s so cool
CORY NYC: At least devons here
COBRASNAKE NETFLIX NEW YORK: So its a si ti party
CORY NYC: No
CORY NYC: Its a celeb party
CORY NYC: Everyones here
COBRASNAKE NETFLIX NEW YORK: Wow. Amazing.
COBRASNAKE NETFLIX NEW YORK: Take photos
CORY NYC: I don’t even want to
CORY NYC: There’s just too many
COBRASNAKE NETFLIX NEW YORK: That’s so cooool
COBRASNAKE NETFLIX NEW YORK: To bad I’m not thereeee
CORY NYC: I know you would ddddiiiie
CORY NYC: Like donald trumps here
CORY NYC: Its redic
COBRASNAKE NETFLIX NEW YORK: Amazing
CORY NYC: I’m so tired
COBRASNAKE NETFLIX NEW YORK: I bet. I took a disco napp

Ah, so young and so jaded. Blasé. Such a teenager, but so aged it's no longer a perverse fascination. Don't cry too hard -- Mark Hunter has more where Cory came from, svelter than death itself, and with a wider variety of substance abuse problems to boot.