The Press and Journal (Aberdeen and Aberdeenshire)
MY ‘GUTTIES’ ARE SIMPLY PERFECT TO MEET OSCAR
Hollywood entertained the 96th Academy Awards, the Oscars, this week. At the glamorous event, 23 golden statues were presented to delighted winners with Oppenheimer sweeping the board, taking home seven awards – including best picture, best actor and best director. A good night at the office indeed.
As much as I love cinema, I have to admit I haven’t watched Oppenheimer, yet. I acknowledge I have to be in the right frame of mind for it.
However, its runaway success made me wonder, would I be more inclined to watch now it’s been given a huge industry pat on the back? I’m not sure because, even though I’d deny it in polite company, I shamefully admit the lure of the Oscars for me is the outfits.
Its appeal has more to do with the heels than the highlight reels. The sheer glamour of the dresses, hairstyles and accessories. All from the comfort of my couch, as I am bedecked in non-matching pyjamas.
During the speeches, the winners always thank the academy for their honour. The glittering stage has presented us with some of the best fashion statements of all time. Surely we should instead be thanking Bjork for her 2001 swan dress, or Cher’s feathered sequin headdress in 1986? The red carpet causes divisive conversation long after the after-parties have finished.
I’ll insert my disclaimer here – I know nothing of modern fashion trends or celebrity stylists. I just know what I like and sometimes like championing those who take a risk. Other times, I wonder why they didn’t have someone to tell them how they looked before they went out!
In my clubbing days, my best friend was brutal! If I looked like a dog’s dinner, she wasn’t shy in voicing that something had to change.
We didn’t have the pressure of the world’s media scrutinising our choices. Identifying every lump and bump. Announcing what actor managed to get the best hairstylist or make-up artist.
This army of professional stylists have to dress their star not just once, but twice.
Firstly for the ceremony itself and for whatever party they attend to celebrate afterwards. I certainly don’t recall anyone asking who “dressed” us as we stood in the nightclub queue. I’d have to reply along the lines of: “New Look, funded by a cheque that is probably going to bounce on Monday!”
I can only imagine the stress involved in the build-up to the awards also affects those responsible for maintaining the image of those in the spotlight – a career-making or breaking moment.
Is there a retreat now playing host to a cacophony of beauty artists and stylists all fretting about whether they’ve gotten their star snubbed?
Such inane ponderings bring me to consider what my own choice of outfit and acceptance speech would be?
Naturally something with an elasticated waistband. Remembering my previous “colour consultation” – I am apparently a “muted cool”, instantly discounting colours like pillar-box red, fuchsia or even gold lame. Such a shame. An absent left breast negates a navelgrazing, plunging neckline, and flapping bingo wings definitely need clipped in. A boiler suit is probably best, all things considered.
Now for footwear. I haven’t navigated shoes higher than platform trainers in years – for safety purposes, I’ll stick to my faithful “gutties”.
My girls gifted me the most beautiful pair for Mother’s Day and such an occasion might convince me not to keep them as ornaments but actually wear them out.
A quick glance through my hair with the straighteners, my trusty tinted lip balm and my wedding ring – we wouldn’t want now-single Hugh Jackman to get any ideas – and I am done!
What’s a front pageworthy outfit without an accompanying speech? I’d like to thank the academy for acknowledging the sheer volume of sarcastic comments I keep to myself on a daily basis and for constantly acting like everything is fine.