Sunday is the Golden Globes, the kick-off to the award season. And for those who worship at the alter of fashion, hunting season is about to open.
I’ve always loved watching the award shows, any and all of them, to see what everyone is wearing. But, of late, I’ve found it to be progressively boring. The reason? I’ve been behind Oz’s curtain. I’ve seen the process, I’ve seen the calculated decisions, I’ve seen the machine at work, and I’ve watched the mystery disappear.
Thanks to The Rachel Zoe Project, It’s a Brad, Brad World and a variety of other reality vehicles, you’ve seen it, too. The arduous process of making a star A STAR. It goes something like this, but not necessarily in this order: the designer clamoring to get stars into his or her designs, the fittings to pick just the right look, the expert atelier flying in to make sure the selected dress fits just right—really, really right—the manicurist painting each nail and toenail to accurate precision, the make-up artist making Michelangelo strokes on aesthetician-treated faces, the hair guru taming each tress to silken thread. Then there’s the entourage, gently guiding the subject to absolute PR perfection: the agent, the publicist, the assistant, the friend, the significant other, all whispering and pointing and cajoling and…you know, it’s a process. A day-long, let’s make a star A STAR intervention. We didn’t even talk about the pre-show process that starts weeks in advance: the facials, the injections, the acupuncture, the massaging, the workouts and diets and enemas and fasting.
I say, To hell with the celebrities. If they can’t get it right, shame on them and their machine.
Let’s talk about the unsung heroes, the ladies that have to share the red carpet with the prettiest and most well-paid people on earth; the ladies who stand silently and courageously next to their tuxedoed stars. Let’s talk about the +1s…the spouses.
Whenever I see them, I always wonder the following: Do they get to borrow their dress like Angelina Jolie does? Do they have a team helping them? Is it an A team or the C minus team—the only team left on the day? Are they excited to be there? Do they dread having to stand next to, say, Angelina Jolie? Do they feel like a troll? Do they have to take a valium to control their fears, anxiety and dread of LET’S-CELEBRATE-THE-MOST-BEAUTIFUL-IN-HOLLYWOOD DAY? Do they have to get home early to relieve the baby sitter? Do they leave the price tag on the dress for a post show return?
If you look at this season’s Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor categories for the Golden Globes, a lot of these guys are either single and arriving solo, or will be bringing their model girlfriends or fellow thespian partners. What I don’t see a lot of among the nominees is one of us. A wife. A life partner. A mom. But there is one hero among us, the +1 in Albert Brooks’ life—Kimberly Brooks.
Of course, Kimberly is much more than a +1. Besides being charming and intensely smart, Kimberly’s a mom to two great kids. She’s an accomplished painter (check out her work, www.kimberlybrooks.com). And many know her as the Founding Editor of Huffington Post Arts. With all she has on her plate, it must be hard to find the time to laugh at all of Albert’s jokes. Or, maybe, that’s the icing on the cake.
We here at Blank Stare, Blink look forward to following Kimberly through the Golden Globes gauntlet, and to experience, second hand, what it’s like to walk the red carpet. Not just as another mom, but, for the night, a privileged part of the .00001%. Let’s celebrate Kimberly, shall we! But first she has to fix the kitchen sink…seriously.