Barf.
I pick up this week's Grazia en route to work today (anything to dull the pain of taking the Tube), and I’m greeting with a shot of Lily Allen in ice skates on the cover, looking part fairy princess, part Kristy Yamaguchi amid some Photoshopped snow. Her arms are raised, she looks optimistically to the right upper hand corner of the cover, and below I see the cover line, “Lily: ‘Why I’m saying goodbye to fame’”
Call me a skeptic, but I somehow doubt this is Lily’s last spin on the ice, so to speak. Inside, there’s the usual talk about how much she’s grown up, how she’s forsaken blogging, Twittering, MySpace-ing, etc., not to mention her hard partying ways. To fill the void, Lily now finds joy in things that are “real,” i.e. Listening to records on vinyl, cooking and “sorting out the linen.”
I’ll spare you the bit about how Lily dreams of having kids and moving to the countryside, how Obama was “the best [event] in social history” (really...all of it?) and how it’s so unfair that only a slim percentage of society gets to wear incredible designer clothes.
Don’t get me wrong, I really like Lily Allen’s music – I’ve got both albums and even went to see her perform – but I just can’t deal with hearing about any more multi-millionaire celebs gushing to the press about how all they really want to do is to fold laundry and cook from scratch at the end of the day. It’s all too Gwyneth for me.
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