Sorry, I Don’t Want An "Amazing Transformation!"


Since the discovery that there were vast sums to be derived from making others feel inadequate, never has such high intelligence has been devoted to low self-esteem.

And never has technology had such effective tools to work with. Between CGI and Photoshop, women (and everybody else) have almost no access to unmediated images.

For example: when has Oprah EVER looked like one of her own magazine covers? It sickens moi when Oprah has those “empowering” title lines on her covers. “Be The Best You?” Then how about showing us the REAL You, Oprah? The woman who is overweight, with heavy arms. This is not meant as a criticism of Ms. Winfrey’s physique. It is a criticism of Ms. Winfrey’s holding herself out as an example. An example that is a LIE.

Ms. Winfrey believes that her bazillions of followers will not buy her magazines if Oprah Winfrey actually looks like Oprah Winfrey.

The mind boggles. In fact, it makes my head hurt if I think about this too much.

Larger lovelies are further marginalized not only by Oprah having herself halved in size, but also the eradication of any and all normal flaws in media images. We are so ceaselessly bombarded by smooth, creamy perfection at every turn that oneself cannot measure up. Even the perfect people are not perfect enough. In television and movies, no wrinkles, bulges, unsightly moles, body hair, bra lines, panty lines, a dress wrinkled in the waist and skirt from sitting down—thanks to CGI, “all gone!” as a friend of mine says to her shiba inu when lunch is done.

To reach out to larger lovelies and spread the word, is having a charity drive for NAAFA (National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance). They have asked plus-size bloggers to write, and I am proud to do so. Even if, as always, I’m slightly late. Click the link for more information:

Before I write anything else, there is one item I must get off my ample chest: if I meet the people behind the Victoria’s Secret ad campaigns and catalogs, there would be blood on the streets. Even the gaunt Dachau victims that lurch down the runways during Fashion Week are more realistic than those pencils with false breasts. Victoria’s Secret has it all…One can feel bad about being skinny, flat-chested, large-chested, heavy, tall, short…any woman that does not look like these bizarre hybrids. And the quality of their merchandise is far lower than their prices would indicate.

The name “Victoria’s Secret” brings to mind the image of a young Victorian female, all plush curves and dimpled elbows. Beautiful lingerie enhancing the splendor of an actual human body. Sensual fabrics on sexual females. The hint of a double chin above a soft neck. Long hair spilled across a satin pillowcase.

Thousands of ads toting exercise machines, DVDs, pills, programs, all guaranteed to make you lose weight and keep it off. Sometimes I wonder:

a) Why have I never met anyone personally who underwent such a transformation?

b) If all of those hordes of “afters” are thin, how can there be any fat people left, logistically speaking?

You might think this is a “been there, done that” tirade. We have been there. We have done that. But never as completely. Never as unremittingly. Women are trained from the cradle to think of themselves as physically inadequate in some way. Heavy women even more so. Now, overweight isn’t only overweight, it is a crime against humanity. At least according to TMZ and their ilk.

Where are the role models for larger lovelies? Every time a heavy beauty has a career breakthrough…she sheds poundage. And since said beauty has always given publicity about “loving myself the way I am”, the frantic backtracking becomes comic to watch. “Yes, I did love myself at that weight, but life can be enjoyed at any size!” THEN WHY DID YOU LOSE SIXTY POUNDS, BITCH? (Yes, I’m looking at you, Jessica Hudson. I know there are others. But I’m looking at you.)

We are betrayed at every turn. America Ferrera started “Ugly Betty” as a larger lovely, but grew progressively thinner as the show’s run went on. Singer Jordin Sparks is ´delighted´ to have lost weight. Media websites love to run slideshows of “Amazing Transformations!”

That’s another peeve. You don’t lose weight. You have “An Amazing Transformation!” “Complete Body Makeover!” Good God, it makes me long for the days when the goal of losing weight was well…losing weight. Buy a smaller bra. Wear pleats. Can we ever go back? If we’re going to make abortion illegal again, while we’re at it, can’t we go back to excess poundage not being a mortal sin?

Pardon the pun: Fat chance. My apologies if this rambles a bit, but I have low blood sugar. I am going to go eat a chocolate cupcake. In public.



Matinee New York, Vintage To The Stars!


This morning I was idly watching Revolutionary Road, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Kate Winslet and Kathy Bates. Very dramatic, set in the mid-1950s. As I watched the crowds of men in identical fedoras and suits, I suddenly thought of my friend Sheri Lane, who runs Matinee New York. She specializes in men’s vintage clothing. I placed a call, and to my non-surprise, it turned out that Sheri indeed had quite a few items in the film, some on Mr. DiCaprio himself.

Matinee New York has supplied vintage clothing for, among other films, American Gangster, When In Rome, The Good Sheperd, Che, Semi Pro, The Secret Life of Bees, Doubt and the upcoming Taking Woodstock. Broadway shows include Frost/Nixon and Absurd Person Singular.

Matinee New York specializes in clothing from the 1930s to the 1970s, although they do have other eras. I have been fortunate enough to share a booth with Ms. Lane at two Manhattan Vintage Shows, and her wares are among the best and most unique I have seen. She also sells to private individuals by appointment. Here is the link to her website, which is also on the right under “Vintage Links”

So if one of my dear readers is a film or stage producer working on a project, do keep Matinee New York in mind.
Unless your star is Kathy Bates, Queen Latifah or Jordin Sparks. Then, my dears, you need moi.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

How Does One Choose the Grammy’s Worst Dressed??


I know that the cliche’ goes that musicians march to a different drummer (or these days, computerized keyboard) when it comes to fashion, but…the Grammy Awards presented such an unrelenting parade of crimes against fashion!

How surreal it all is becomes clear when you realize that Carrie Underwood is one of the BEST dressed.
(All photographs courtesy of Getty Images)

In my unhumble opinion, Jordin Sparks was the best dressed of the evening, glorious in Debra Davenport:

The band Coldplay showed up, cleverly costumed as a box of Crayolas:

And it wouldn’t be Hollywood without several hideously gaunt young women, including Audrina Partridge, who in Tadashi achieved the trifecta of a too-low strapless dress, jagged collarbones and stick-thin arms:

and Paris Hilton in vintage Versace and an irritating sense of entitlement:


Whitney Houston showed up, looking lovely in Zuhair Murad. Although shortly after this photo was taken she fell over backwards onto the couch and passed out.

Jennifer Hudson has apparently succumbed to “Oprah’s Disease”, becoming unnaturally thin. One hopes it is the camera angle. As for the RM for Roland Mouret dress, it is moi or is it both poorly fitted and bunched up in strange places?

No one expects quiet good taste from Paula Abdul, but this his hideous yellow thing by Basil Soda will remain burned into my retinas for at least a week.

However, the winner of The Worst Dressed At The Grammys Goes to:

M.I.A., whose fashion sense was also missing in action:

Yes, they say she’s expecting. What? The circus coming to town? And Christian Lacroix sneakers? It’s the end of civilization, I tell you.

Mon Dieu, I must hie me to the other room and listen to some Schubert.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog