Join the Club!
Fill out the contact form below and we’ll get you a free exercise tracker!
Long before the final statuettes have been given out, the awards for who looks best (and worst) in a dress are being decided.Â From the moment these film actors and actresses stop onto the red carpet, the world is frantically deciding, do they look good?Â Isn’t it interesting that the Oscar is almost a secondary award to the main award–the best and worst dress lists?Â These lists begin to come out before the first Academy Award envelope is opened and before the stars and starlets have even had a chance to find a drink or have their first, post-red-carpet pee.
Anybody who has any doubts about the priorities of our culture need look no further than this night.Â Winning for being the best actor or actress often simply takes second place to who wore the best dress, had the right hair, and managed to score the most exclusive awards night jewelry.Â Even the directors, producers, costume designers, writers, set designers, sound designers and more are meticulously dissected based on hem length, cleavage, tux tailoring, strappy shoe wearing and bling.
I can’t help thinking that it all feels so “High School”.Â The pecking order for the most prestigious film awards in the world seems to share more than a little in common with your average High School prom evening.Â You have the popular kids, the AV nerds, the smart kids, the jocks, the goth kids and others.Â Â You have limo rides that are probably more awkward than fun.Â You have folks who have poured more money into one evening that anyone ever thought prudent or even possible.Â And at the end of the day, it seems all anyone cares, is how they looked in the dress.
Maybe that’s why, despite multiple invitations to various Oscar parties, I opted to simply go to the pub with my sweetie.Â I ate sliders.Â I wore jeans.Â I drank wine.Â Life is good.
So maybe I won’t win the award for best at wearing a dress.Â But at least I had a good time.Â Oh, and I didn’t have to wait three hours to pee either.
I guess it’s all about priorities.
The Fat Chick