WTF has been reflecting on the topic of plebs, chavs and celebrity. Here’s the thing. After several years of pretending to be one of the plebs, Call-Me-Dave, our old Etonian Prime Minister, realised that the public wasn’t buying it. Maybe Dave noticed how rival Boris Johnson flaunts his upper class credentials and nobody seems to mind. So this year Dave decided to stand up at the Tory Conference in Birmingham and come out a day ahead of National Coming Out Day. You remember when Tom Robinson was glad to be gay? Well, Dave is proud to be posh. Dave says he wants to create a society where people can aspire to get the sort of education you get at Eton. Of course in order to go to Eton, mater and pater have to stump up £10,865 a term, not to mention the cost of the white tie uniform and £1,800 entrance fee and this Government is slashing public spending like the Grim Reaper on acid. But Dave says that aspiration is the way forward for the masses, which is ironic because whilst he is now proud to be posh, lots of people are going out of their way to look and be as chavvy as possible. Dave was bigging up an aspiration to a good education, a career and a 4-bedroom house in Godalming, but actually the way to a career nowadays, whether you are rich or poor, is to parade your fake tits, fake tan, fake hair, fat legs and total absence of brain movement and then sit back and let the pounds roll in. This is the apotheosis of the untalented. Even haute couture has become vulgar with celebrity fashion victims galore. Some buy the clothes at sky high prices, some borrow them and some are actually paid to wear them, which is why you get all those celebs in the front row of fashion shows wearing something from the new collection. The designers are cosy with the stylists, the stylists are cosy with the celebrities, the celebrities are cosy with the publicists, the publicists are cosy with the photographers and everyone has the Mail Online on speed dial and loadsa money in the bank. There’s no such thing as bad publicity. What’s not to like? This is probably what Dave meant when he was banging on about the Big Society. Everyone gives everyone else a hand to get rich.
Our Z Lister of the week is zillionheiress Tamara Ecclestone, said to be worth £200m and possibly one of the most pointless people on the planet. I mean, this is a girl who once rushed herself to hospital as an emergency admission on discovering that she had a pimple and who spends her life shopping, partying and making vacuous reality shows like Billion $$ Girl in which she attempts to persuade us (or at least the 10 saddos watching) that she is just like us, only much, much richer.
Tamara’s doting parents bought her a house in London for £45m, where she has a room just for wrapping presents and she has installed a crystal bath which cost her £1m. You don’t get one of those at Homebase. For several years, Tamara was an item with a financier called Omar Khyami until Daddy (Bernie Ecclestone, Mr Formula 1) unearthed a sex tape featuring Omar having a sizzling sex romp with someone else. (Have you noticed that the phrase “sizzling sex romp” is only ever used in tabloids? No really, has anyone ever said to you, “Yesterday I had a sizzling sex romp”? The same goes for “sizzling sex sessions”.) Indeed, Tamara has since confessed that she and Omar had not romped, sizzlingly or otherwise, for more than a year. Omar protested that the offending tape had been made long before he ever met Tamara, but sadly for him he was seen stark bollock naked save for two gold Cartier wristlets worth £30,000 each which she had given him as tokens of her affection. So Tamara threw him out and is now languishing alone in her crystal bath whilst Omar is left to rue his foolishness. After all, to paraphrase Porterhouse Blue, few of us can boast a night of pleasure which leaves behind a bill of £200m. Meanwhile our heroine summons up the courage to go out on the town, bravely hiding her heartache in a very small zipped Hervé Leger wetsuit and ugly spiked Louboutins. If you didn’t know she was an zillionheiress, you would be forgiven for thinking that she was off TOWIE or a soap star learning to dance/skate/cook/milk a goat on some crappy celebrity competition show. She is orange, she is titsy and she is dressed like a slapper. So much for wealth and education.
Here is the High Priestess of Chav, Tulisa Contostavlos off X Factor, who kicked off this season’s first live show in this number by Carlotta.
Hired onto the show as the Princess of Street Cred, Tulisa now lives a schizophrenic existence, half shellsuit, half couture like a sartorial minotaur.Until Christmas she will be locked in manicure-to-manicure combat with her co-judge Nicole Scherzinger in a twice-weekly contest to see which of them can look sillier. Despite Nicole’s record as a serial offender, the smart money is on Tulisa and WTF is en route to the bookies with her life savings once she presses the Publish button. Only Carlotta and the stylist knows why they chose to put Tulisa into a recycled Austrian blind (loyal WTFer Joshua LaPorte tells me that in the US they are known as balloon blinds), cutesy Miu Miu sandals and a necklace last seen on Nefertitti but the result got the major bird from the public, and rightly so. WTF will watch the contest between the two judges with interest and promises to keep you fully informed.
Next up, we have singer Macy Gray at the New York Film Festival.
It is one thing to make the news. It is quite another thing to make a dress out of it. Macy is starring in a new film called The Paperboy but surely she has taken this theme too literally? Did Richard Dreyfus and Robert Shaw turn up at the premiere of Jaws dressed as a couple of sharks? Of course they didn’t. The poor love looks like an ostrich stuck in a printing press. Not good.
At least with a model you don’t get the satsuma skin and fake (or indeed any) tits, but otherwise it is the same-old, same-old peek-a-boo-oooh-look-here’s my-minge nonsense. Readers may recall something similar with Eva Longoria in Alberta Ferretti a few weeks ago but she was positively nun-like compared to this outfit with its own built in fanny flap. Speaking of Eva and minges, WTF gurgled with pleasure on discovering that there is actually a real designer called Eva Minge!!!! (she’s Polish). Proof positive that there is a Deity. But I digress. Here is the back of Doutzen’s dress with its predictable butthole blind.
This is not a dress, it’s a peep show. WTF is also mystified by the black tinsel trims like a Goth Christmas tree. It may be beautifully made but what on earth is the point of this dress? As Dolly Parton is wont to remark, it takes a lot of money to look this cheap.
Finally, because I am not sure how you could follow this, we have writer and broadcaster Vanessa Feltz at a Breast Cancer Care Charity thrash. Brace yourselves, because this is BAD.
Yikes! Vanessa is a clever woman with a First from Cambridge in English Literature but when it comes to clothes she would struggle to get a U for “Unclassified”. What the hell is she wearing? Little Bo Peep meets Diamond Lil is never a good look and this dress must be a contender for the WTF Turkey of the Year award. It also looks a little tight. Meanwhile, Vanessa might want to rethink the lank peroxide hair extensions. WTF is put in mind of Sir Andrew Aguecheek from Twelfth Night to whom Sir Toby Belch remarked that his hair “hangs like flax on a distaff – I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs and spin it off” . Look – Andrew and Vanessa could be sisters….
OK Readers, over to you. Hit the Comment button and don’t be shy…. what do you think of this array of horror?