A Lady's Urban Style Companion 907
Author: Jennifer Robertson
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
Like us plebs, not all celebrities are born equal in the style stakes. Style is something of a natural gift, difficult to forcibly teach even with the assistance of bucket loads of money and hired help. Hence Britney Spears’ love affair with cowboy boots and why so many wealthy women, despite their fiscal advantages, still end up looking like they just emerged from a pashmina storm at the local Escada store, complete with orange tan, acrylic nails and strappy, bejewelled mules.
One of the most important aspects to possessing the gift of style is the ability to adapt. To be adaptable you need to know when you are too old for short shorts, when it’s time to put down the straightening iron and give some voluminous curls a go and when to admit that your once hip underground item is well and truly ubiquitous.
The ‘adapt or perish’ rule applies to celebrities as well. This is nowhere so well illustrated as in the fashions and power plays of friends Nicole Ritchie and Paris Hilton. Back in the early seasons of The Simple Life, it was Paris that was the supposedly hot one, the one teenage girls (however unhealthily) wanted to emulate. Nicole was just her brash, chubby friend. Golly, how things have changed. Nicole Ritchie shed the pink hair extensions and slutterella ensembles and decided to reinvent her image. Say what you like about the girl and her body mass index, these days she really knows how to dress! Even when she was nine months up the duff, she still managed to look like some sort of Chanel-clad gypsy madonna, rather than an over-capacity cruise liner in a mumu. Paris Hilton, on the other hand, still sports the baby pink wardrobe, the tacky ra-ra skirts, trucker caps and velour tracksuits. She’s stuck wearing those things that were hot years ago when she was at the height of her cheap fame.
So what’s the lesson here- Adapt, adapt, adapt! Or, if you can’t adapt, be one of those truly admirable style mavericks who ignores trends entirely, who say’s bosh and hang to the critics and wears whatever they damn well please! I tip my straw fedora to you.