Scarecrow rules in Oz……..

Something Kelly said in her latest post made room for a subversive thought to slip in unnoticed. She was talking about Diane Lane in the film Must Love Dogs, which is apparently horrendous, but which I have not had the misfortune of watching. She used the rather perfect ‘rumpled gorgeousness’ to describe Lane, who makes no attempt to hide her age behind surgery or reams of make-up.

Anyway, I’m not here to debate Ms Lane or whether or not Must Love Dogs did suck eggs completely, rather, I’d like to ask my learned readers for their opinion as to when the moment was, that we mutated and perverted the definition of beauty to include the scarecrows that grace magazine covers and fashion ramps, where every blemish is digitally removed. Is there some secret Taiwanese factory that churns out these creatures?

When did the Mona Lisa become Paris Hilton?

~ by tenmiles on January 16, 2006.

9 Responses to “Scarecrow rules in Oz……..”

  1. Paris Hilton is scary.

    But then again, she does have eyebrows unlike the Mona Lisa

  2. I blame internet porn. Okay, I’m joking a LITTLE. I watched a movie the other day – I believe it may have been the remake of The Fly, with Jeff Goldblum – and I realized that even as few as ten years ago, TV women were heavier, more voluptuous, than they’re allowed to be now. They were also allowed to have itty bitty titties. Why is a size 12 woman considered fat now? Wasn’t Bridget Jones GORGEOUS? Sigh. Maybe the tide will turn again; maybe it IS turning (as evidenced by that stupid Must Love Dogs movie). We can only hope. Thank you for being a guy who cares, seriously.

  3. Have to admit that I saw Must Love Dogs the other day and thought it was fun. Cusak it full 80’s mode with Diane Lane looking gorgeous as ever…I’m an odd one I know but I will take it on the chin and own up to liking this box office dud.

  4. I can comfortably say I was never churned out of such a factory. Keeping that in mind, I get mixed reviews. It’s a strange world we’ve created. If I ever, EVER begin to resemb;e Paris Hilton by a mere shade, I’ll ask to be unceremoniously taken out back and shot.

  5. Strangely, I blame women for this phenomenon. It was women reading women’s magazines who turned impossibly tall, impossibly skinny, plasticly perfect women into “supermodels”. During the supermodel era I was always being told by women “oh, isn’t Naomi Campbell/Eva Herzegovina/whoever so beautiful” and I’d be the one saying, “no, actually, I’d prefer someone like Janeane Garofolo any day, she’s cute and funny.”

  6. Focus, people! The question was when did this occur. By my reckoning, it was exacly sixteen minutes past midnight on the 22nd of November, 2001.

  7. It happened at about the time common sense was laid to rest and we started to rely on fashion and beauty moguls to dicate to us what beauty is and which fads we should follow.
    Which is precisely a minute after the time mentioned by kyknoord…that is how long it took to corrupt the brainless.

  8. I KIND of agree with Alan, about women perpetuating the perfection myth, but what about men’s magazines featuring huge-boobed sluts? I think we all need to start thinking for ourselves, instead of looking to the media for direction.

  9. twiggy, I think answers your immediate question.

    Ideals of beauty keep changing. Today, Rubens’ nudes look rather obese to us, but at the time all that rollicking flesh was evidently a turn-on. There appears to have been a time when looking pregnant was considered really hot in the Netherlands – certainly there’s an unusual number of women with very pregnant bellies in Flemish formal portraiture from around the 16th and 17th centuries. Indians seem to have favoured fairly fleshy, robust women too, going by ancient statues, such as those in Khajuraho, but now anyone that looks doll-like and kinda western is ‘it’ (such as Aishwarya Rai). In the end, beauty means nothing, if you ask me. I don’t believe it exists. There are just degrees of revulsion at the physical reality of another human being, and in some of these degrees we find a comfort zone that we mis-name attraction.

    Yes, I took my cheerful pills this morning. Promise.

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