Friday April 6th


A mild furore broke out this week over an article in the Daily Mail-where else?-by Samantha Brick on the perils of being too damn good looking and the negativity this engenders  in particular from other, in her eyes, less attractive members of the species. My first thoughts after eventually reading said article were that it was a late April Fools joke cleverly written to cause a backlash and drum up interest in a rag which, let’s face it, needs all the help it can in finding new readers and showing itself capable of something other than scaremongering and judgmental attitudes. Unfortunately suspicions lingered that it was indeed a serious article and subsequent interviews and defensive remarks made by its author revealed, not the beauty which she claims arouses so much envy, instead delusions of the highest order.

The photos which accompanied the piece were what made me first suspect it was a put on. Brick is an averagely attractive woman- I am being uncharacteristically kind here- both tall and slim with blonde hair and, let’s face it, bland and undistinguishable features. What immediately came across in her writing is any lack of humour or compassion towards other women. It is not this however which has prevented any of her fellow females- I struggle to call them friends as not once does she mention friendship in her rantings- from asking her to be a bridesmaid or assisting in her career ambitions. No, it is the fact other women are simply jealous of her and view her as a threat which has held her back and excluded her. Not once does she question the fact maybe she is simply not likeable as a person or her competitive nature –obvious in her writing- and admission she uses flirting to get ahead are maybe more adequate reasons for disliking her than her narcissism and delusional fantasies about her average looks.

On the subject of narcissism I feel I am more than able to comment on a personal level. A recent posting on Facebook linking to a test to discover how narcissistic you are revealed my levels of narcissism were extremely high-no surprise to anyone who knows me- and even beat the scores averaged by celebrities generally considered to be the most narcissistic grouping in our society. What worried me more however was the fact I had downplayed certain aspects of my nature and could have upped my already high score by six points-there was a further test for measuring psychopathic tendencies but it would have simply been too much time away from the mirror- but I was able to laugh about this with friends, who very kindly informed me I was perhaps the only person surprised by my score. Unfortunately Brick does not seem to possess this self deprecating gene nor the ability to laugh at herself and subsequent TV interviews have revealed her to be steadfast in her misguided beliefs and wayward fantasies. The phrase ‘thick as a Brick’ now springs to mind and she simply does not understand very few seem able to comprehend the attractive qualities she spouted on about so readily and  unfortunately came across as a decidedly unattractive human being .

The idea of beauty is such an abstract concept anyway and I always favour Andy Warhol’s way of thinking in that the great beauties also need to be great talkers. This becomes truer as age takes hold and beauty fades. Perfect examples of this are sixties icons and beauties Marianne Faithfull and Anita Pallenberg who were contemporaries of Lulu but whilst the pint sized Scottish belter has somehow managed to look better than she did all those decades ago the former two have not weathered quite so well. Despite this I would rather spend an hour with Marianne or Anita and the tales and subject matter they have at their disposal than any with Lulu-whose accent can’t even make up its mind what it is- and her inane chat about how highlights and layers help lift the features. In short they are interesting, intelligent women who just happened to be exceptionally beautiful and after their looks faded they drew on other facets of their character which were probably what helped to establish their beauty in the first place. Kate Moss seems to be their heir apparent and it is no co-incidence she hangs out with them seeking out companionship and guidance rather than more conventional choices.

Another of my all time favourite female icons Patti Smith-who let’s face it was never conventionally beautiful or even attractive but in possession of style, charisma, attitude and talent- has also weathered the ravages of time successfully. Never reliant on her looks to attain her objectives she is still relevant and inspirational to new generations of women thirty seven years after her first explosion onto the public consciousness. It is always refreshing to see her at red carpet events and film premieres as the world’s best dressed bag-lady, dressed down in her Prada and Ann Demeulelmeester outfits, looking as if she is grateful to be there and having more fun than everyone else trussed up in their skin-tight slips of nothing which can only be worn after weeks of rigorous dieting and avoidance of carbs.

Talking of shallow beauty versus intelligent, Laid In Chelsea returned to our screens this week and, to be honest , they really shouldn’t have bothered. In fact I am not sure they actually did bother as it was the same non-problems as the previous two series’ only this time around it is beyond tedious. The Caggie and Spencer yawnathon has to end NOW and her alleged departure at the end of the next episode will hopefully be an end to that total boring storyline. The conclusion being she is little more than a spoilt, posh tart and he is a lecherous knob! Not much else happened and I felt before this is one series too far and Monday night’s episode did little to persuade me otherwise. Mind you I will watch it again this week if only to see Caggie’s exit- perhaps she is going in search of a real name or assisting Chloe Green who departed apparently in a vain attempt to locate her chin- and by the end of the episode will probably be hooked.

Easter weekend sees another outing to Hot Mess- fast becoming my favourite club-night in Edinburgh with amazing music but really there is not much competition at the moment- at the Wee Red Bar tonight and then The Waterboys at the Festival Theatre on Easter Sunday. Not familiar with any of the latter’s output- Whole of the Moon aside- but have been assured I will enjoy it. The rest of my weekend will be spent gazing in the mirror, unsure why others don’t hate me or resent me for my extreme attractiveness and polishing up my conversational skills to help me overcome the crippling shyness which I am convinced holds me back. Arm yourselves with earplugs. Happy Easter!

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