Los Angeles, the The Awards Season.
It starts in early January with The Palm Springs Film Festival and rolls into The Critics Awards, the Golden Globes, The Sag Awards, The Spirit Awards, The Oscars, and ends with The Grammys.
You can't hold a function on any weekend from January thru March. All the caterers, valet parking, party planners, hair and makeup techs, and top venues are booked. The town becomes a seizure of self importance and hype.
Apparently in December you get all your botox and "pull backs" done; do your rehab time; finish your house make-over, and complete all your adoptions of babies in time to make your appearance at one of these award ceremonies or at any of the endless pre or post parties.
Beverly Hills and Hollywood can handle the influx and insanity. They have been doing it for years. But this year there is an unsettling quiet in the streets. A weird level of lackluster has seeped over the town.
The new Bel Air Hotel has opened to less than glowing reviews (I wonder what the swans are thinking?) more people are talking about the NFL playoff games than the movies.
It is a sea of lookalikes. An impressive lineup of hairdressers, makeups artist, and manicurists all working feverishly and laser focused. This is Hollywood at its most exalted – the land of makeovers.
During Awards Season every place from the airport to the delis to personal driveways sport red carpets.
Fashion Police Joan Rivers will hit every show. I believe she single-handedly put all red carpets on the map. My issue with the Red Carpet hype ... what does Charlize Theron's "fairy" dress or Angelina's "alien look" has to do with fashion? Even women I know wearing formal attire don't care about Red Carpet couture. Face it we only love looking at them at home with friends so we can mock the whole production! It has never been about trend-setting but rather it’s about wise-cracking.
Frankly, I miss the big gaffs of years gone by; singer Bjork in her swan goose costume, Barbra Streisand in her glitter shorts, Demi Moore in anything of insanity. Today's stylists have homogenized every star to look alike. It's an assembly line.
I have been told that L.A. is now a fashion epicenter, no longer a fashion joke. Ha! Spoken to someone who wears old cashmere sweaters and glorious jewelry. I look at the fashion magazines and I recognize I am very out-of-date.
I try to stay open minded
I live for mystery only there is no mystery
I live to be fascinated only there is nothing original
NEITHER on the red carpet NOR on the screen