I USED TO BE PERFECTLY confident I knew what the end of Western civilization would look like. It was obvious to me that celebrity-gossip magazines such as People, Us Weekly, In Touch, and Star offered a glimpse into the cultural abyss.
But that was then. Lately, something remarkable has happened. I’ve undergone a conversion to the Dark Side. Under the influence of my girlfriend, I’ve let down my guard. I stopped sneering at the show-biz glossies long enough to allow my carefully suppressed plebeian sensibilities just a little play–and before I knew it I had seen the light, shining bright as the glitzy sparkle off J-Lo’s rocks.
Now there’s simply no denying it: I’m hooked. I need a regular fix of Brad-Angelina-Jen updates; a steady diet of Lindsay Lohan rumors; and the latest news on Tom and Katie’s budding dalliance. (Or is it just a PR stunt? Turn to page 36 to find out!)
I suppose I should blush at this disclosure. No red-blooded male fancies himself a consumer of insipid celebrity tittle-tattle–you don’t need to tell me, the quintessential recovering anti-glossy snob. I used to be above it all.
Then one day, when I was going to run an errand at the drug store, my girlfriend asked me to pick up a copy of In Touch. It seemed chivalrous to shelve the disdain. Waiting in line at CVS, I thumbed through the pages. I did this for her several times. Pretty soon, I noticed I was starting to remember the starlets’ names and romantic histories, and generally enjoying the colorful parade. Slowly, the truth about my new addiction dawned on me.
I still can’t say exactly what the appeal is. It’s not that I suddenly find Hollywood celebrities to be interesting people–I don’t. A big part of it has to be relief. When you spend the bulk of your workday knee-deep in politics, policy, and punctuation, it’s just too grim to invest after-hours energies in censoriousness. To go home and open a dirt-dishing celeb mag feels almost as refreshing as to reach for an ice-cold beer.
Bored with Social Security? Catch up on Nick and Jessica’s marital spat! Tired of dissecting the filibuster deal? See where Cameron Diaz shops on Rodeo! It may be a guilty pleasure, but it’s still pleasure. And it sure beats wading through the demerits of ethanol subsidies.
And there’s another, more practical explanation for my newborn glossy-philia: It gets reinforcement from the culture. Celebrity voyeurism has gone mainstream. Thanks in part to the Internet and the 24/7 news cycle, there are now innumerable ways to track show-biz gossip. Even some presentable journalists are caught alluding to the freshest chatter about Britney Spears, Ben Affleck, et al. Such pop-culture chitchat peppers our day-to-day dialogue.
That makes it harder than ever to remain aloof from it all. In the old days, before turning to the glossies, I struggled to keep pace with friends and coworkers. My anti-celeb-mag haughtiness barred me from many conversations. I was hopelessly out of the loop.
Not any more. I now possess a hearty trove of celebrity factoids. For example, do you know that Jennifer Garner has never received an email from her mother? Or that Robert Downey Jr. takes yoga classes? Or that Courteney Cox is a compulsive property-flipper, and hubby David Arquette enjoys shooting hoops? Bet not. But thanks to the June 13 issue of Us Weekly, I do.
And how could I forget Paris Hilton? As an avatar of contemporary American celebrity, the pencil-thin Ms. Hilton is ubiquitous in the glossies. Here’s Paris gallivanting with her Greek shipping-heir fiancé (also named Paris) in L.A. There’s Paris strolling in to dinner with her House of Wax costars in London. She’s the perfect icon for our celebrity-mad culture.
The flagship journal of the Celeb Movement is, of course, People, though some fellow addicts prefer Star, which trades in wilder stories and rumors, National Enquirer-style. My personal fave is Us Weekly. Unlike People–which always serves up a few feel-good news articles, staking a vain claim for respectability–Us makes no pretense of being actual journalism. It is mindless gossip, with plenty of pictures. Which is what we readers want.
Like all junkies, I realize I may someday have to kick the habit. The glossies are pretty cheap, but if you buy a couple every week, the cost adds up. Plus, I’m starting to spend a bit too much time agonizing over Lindsay Lohan’s weight loss. Still, contrary to my best, most elevated instincts, I’ve enjoyed my brief escapes to Celeb Land. The natives are well known for their vanity, their frivolity, and their air of conceit. But keeping up with their antics is darn good fun.
–Duncan Currie
