The Big O
No, you dirty pervs, not that big O, I’m talking about Oprah. Never let it be said that Big O doesn’t know how to self-promote. Obviously, there’s a lot lacking in her life, what with the talk show, TV network, radio network, magazine, school, political candidate and all. She needs a retail store.
Now, you can get your Oprah fix at a 5500 square-foot store in Chicago. It’s a big room full of self-awareness, living your dreams and getting in touch with your emotions.
There’s an endless supply of Oprah branded stuff: Make-up bags, mugs, T shirts, beach towels, umbrellas (ellas ellas), ‘passion’ journals (which come with an Oprah bucket for you to puke in after you’ve written in it), handmade African goods, some days you get a free Steadman with purchase. The list goes (tediously) on (forever).
I’ve been known to watch a bit of Oprah in my time, but do I want her name emblazoned on my chest on a terry cloth bathrobe? Not particularly. I also can’t envision myself ever saying ‘hey, you know what I need? An Oprah iPod cover.’
If you live in Chicago, prepare for the streets to be flooded with middle class white women wearing ‘O’ brand velour tracksuits.
I can see where Oprah’s coming from. I bet she can’t even afford to put fuel in her private jet with the pittance she makes from her regular gigs.
Whatever will she think of next?
Oi, Kidman…
I’m not a fan, I’ll be the first to admit that. But can you please answer a couple of things for me?
a) Are you serious with that dress?
b) Exactly what cocktail of drugs were you on when you decided to wear it?
I really can’t fathom what is going on here. I can count about ten different kinds of wrong, which, when broken down, amount to: seven different kinds of fabric, one mini goth pom-pom on each shoulder and one formaldehyde face. Thank God this picture cuts you off at the knees – I don’t even want to know what you’ve got on your feet. This entire get up makes my head hurt. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say, it’s time for a new stylist.
Serious corner
Isabelle Caro is a 26 year old French actress. An Italian fashion company, ‘Nolita’ recently used the recovering anorexic’s image in their ‘No Anorexia’ ad campaign.
Obviously, it caused a big hoo ha and eventually they had to remove it from billboards.
I’m not even going to go off on a big diatribe about the pressure the media puts on women to be skinny. I think the image speaks for itself.
What struck me is that she’s my age. If I’d have listened to those voices in my head when I was younger, telling me my hips were too wide or my thighs too flabby, well, this image serves as a scary glimpse into what could have been.
