Clash of the Inclinations

One of the founding tensions of this blog was the little bit rock ‘n’ roll versus the little bit country parts of me (if you’re not referencing Donny & Marie right now, I’m sorry, or maybe I’m sorry if you are).  Being here is far more country than rock ‘n’ roll, and sometimes I believe that I could just live like this all the time – no make-up, casual dress, flip flops, minimal showers.  But then, I pick up my Vogue and voila!  I’m all excited about fashion and trends and on and on – I’m a little like a ten-year old thinking she loves Justin Bieber but then picking up Teen Beat (does that magazine even still exist) and realizing her heart belongs to Taylor Lautner.  (Please note, these guys do absolutely nothing for me, and even if I were a ten-year old straight girl, I’d have better taste.  Trust me on this.)
    I really find Vogue a bit ‘meh’ now although I love Grace Coddington, but I still have a subscription to it and do wait with baited breath for the September issue.  However, there’s plenty of ridiculousness within.  Please spare me the society “It” girls, the best-dressed celebrities (do they really dress themselves?  I think not), and the pronouncements on skin creams and the like.  But what I really want to know is this – is “Last Look” on the back page really a fantastic joke?  Are the people at Vogue doubled over, howling over what they’ve written?  Because, quite frankly, they should be.  Liss and I were beside ourselves after I read this little item aloud:

    “You’re headed to a friend’s house in Malibu, right on the PCH (paddleboards and homemade fish tacos graciously provided.)  The ultimate merci for what surely will be the perfect summer weekend?  Hermes has made this very chic, very restful terry cloth-covered beach mat – just plunk it down on the sand and watch the sun set.  Take on to your hostess, and no doubt you’ll be invited back” (p. 158 August Vogue).

    And what will this little bread and butter gift cost you?  $1,725!  Are you howling?  Can you hold back the tears?  Why hang out in California when you could finance a trip to Costa Rica and dump your pretentious friends?  We make fish tacos and don’t expect an overpriced camp chair for reward, even if you come to Nova Scotia where, screw the PCH, we’re feet from the water with no distractions.
    Plus, here’s the real irony.  Rich people generally do not buy gifts like that for each other, unless they’re nouveau riche, trying to prove something, and/or so rich they have nothing better to spend their money on.  Most rich people are rich because they don’t spend money like that. Many might say they’re cheap, others might just say frugal.  Whatever.  Whose idea of a joke was this anyway?