If you watched the Hills this week, then you probably rocked out a bit to that great French pop they played in between sweeping shots of the Eiffel tower.
Well, I am here to lead you to the source of it’s awesomeness. Although frankly, Jezebel beat me to it.
Her name Yelle, and she reminds me a heck of a lot of a certain other talented young European as she has a penchant for wacky - yet surprisingly flattering - Euro trash fashions and sweet and poppy elecro.
But where Robyn is like Bjork meets Gwen Stefani as raised by Missy, Yelle is like the secret French love child Peaches and Princess Superstar were always meant to have, with Francoise Hardy as her godmother.
When I watched horribly dubbed European childrens shows on TVO as a child, I never imagined that all those wacky/tacky clothes and all that cheesy Casio music would come back to haunt me in the most fabulous way possible.
How do Europeans get away with being so sophisticated all of a sudden, by doing the same things they’ve always done? We used to at least have their weird clothes and musical tastes to make fun of, even if everything else they did was pretty much superior in every way. Great, now you guys have a sizzling economy, unparalleled culture, excellent social programs, and all the good pop music and outfits. Unfair guys, unfair.
(Sidebar: If you’re unfamiliar with Francoise Hardy you should click on this link ’cause Francoise Hardy is the bomb. I can never get over how pretty she was, and how modern she looked and sounded - fourty years ago BTW - and she’s pretty much even hotter now that she’s older - hrmmm… maybe the French have always been good at the whole music and outfits thing…)
I feel that in this last episode, something important happened: It is no longer important whether or not it’s real. I don’t care. I never really cared, but this episode cemented it for me.
Actually, I think I prefer to think of it all as some constructed fairy tale. It allows me to feel like my own life isn’t so very crappy because I don’t have to compare our realities. Because “reality” on the Hill’s is something along the line of that the worst thing that could possibly happen to you is ruining your ballgown because you were out partying in it at a Parisian nightclub with some French rock stars.
Sigh…
Whose life could compare to that?
Even Carrie Bradshaw’s last trip to Paris kinda sucked it big time.
For those of those unfamiliar, this season premiered with an episode in which our heroine (the adorable Lauren Conrad) jetted off to Paris.
She was in town to go to a ball - and then poor little miss Cinderlauren burned her ballgown and had nothing to wear to the ball - but it’s ok cause a designer simply whipped up an even more fabulous dress for her to wear! Yay!
Then of course, while at the ball (which turned out to be kinda boring, FYI) who do you think shows up? Yeah, a gorgeous French rocker (who is seriously crushing on our gal BTW) in some very tight pants on a very tight vespa. So what does Lauren do? Hikes up her ball gown and goes for a midnight tour of Paris, of course! Who wouldn’t?
Also: who doesn’t love a girl that looks hot in red lipstick, and knows to co-ordinate her nails and beverage accordingly.
Also: Whitney seems like such a good influence on everyone, especially Laruen - who doesn’t exactly have the best track record when choosing friends (to say the least). So astoundingly down to earth. And soo so pretty-pretty. Katherine Heigl pretty. God, I wish she were my BFF/coworker.
The show may be reality TV - but the reality is for the girls who watch it, it’s 100% fantasy fulfillment. Just like reading Teen Vogue. Nobody’s shocked when it turns out to be less than the truth - whether or not Heidi actually thinks she has a legitimate singing career, Lauren does a lick of work at Teen Vogue, or Audrina posed for nude pictures.
Not important. More debutante balls please. More Paris. More partys. More outfits. More cat fights. More playboys. More rock stars.
It’s an indulgence, and as such it fits into my life alongside my more serious pursuits.
And if I’m supposed to give it up, simply because it’s silly, than I say to you: give up your Will Ferrel movies, your sporting events, your Guitar Hero and your American Idol.
You do all that, and I’ll stop watching the Hills.
Usually I avoid “big” words. My short tenure as a journalist instilled in me the idea that big, fancy, complicated, and antiquated words are an unnecessary and pretentious indulgence and they are only normally used by people who haven’t figured out how to properly use a thesaurus. The smartest people I know - oxford and ivy league educated professors and people - used precious little of them.
That being said, I am currently enamored with the following words.
Woeful
Languorous
Verdant
I think that in the right context they are wonderfully expressive.
