Bangs, fringe, breakage — whatever you call it, it'll fit in some butterfly clips.
Recently, I flew
from New York City to New Orleans on the same plane as John Goodman. I was deliriously
exhausted from having not slept during my entire time in NYC due to the
adrenaline rush of meeting so many xoPeople IRL for the first time and also the
near-lethal amounts of caffeine I consumed while ducking into every other
coffee shop in Manhattan to charge my phone and thaw out my poor, frozen hands.
So when John
Goodman totally bombarded me at baggage claim and was all, “OH MY GOSH are you
RACHEL from EX OH VAIN DOT COM?” I was like, “Dude, this is embarrassing. I’m
trying to lie low.” And then we took shelter in a nearby Hudson News and
gossiped behind copies of US Weekly and the latest best sellers in the genre I can
only guess is called “Speculative and Vaguely Religious Near-Fiction Conspiracy
Novels Written By Older White Men.”
And then I woke
up on the plane where I was sitting next to this dude who had a corduroy blazer and
orthopedic sneakers and the same exact haircut as me. I wiped the drool
from the left side of my face as the plane landed, sulked off the plane and
stood awkwardly next to John Goodman as we watched for our luggage to come
round the conveyor belt.
important part of this story is I saw a celebrity. Celebrities are rad. I
actually dig our celeb-obsessed, E! News-ified culture. It’s a Kardashian’s
world, and we’re all just living in it. The whole thing makes reality seem SO
bizarro it’s almost sci-fi. Like, when I see a tabloid sometimes I can’t even
believe it’s real. Because it isn’t!
I totally get our cravings for a world
more fantastic than our own. Some people get their fix reading things like Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. Some people watch Keeping Up with the
Kardashians. We’re all just looking for a world different from our own, but
still accessible enough for us to live vicariously through its weird illusion
Yeah, I just
compared Tolkien to the Kardashians. Come at me, nerds.
My celebrity obsessions are few and far
between. Not since the boy banded days of my youth have I experienced a “crush”
on a celebrity, but back then I went hard in the paint for any dude with a
crooning voice as squeaky as his shellacked hair surely was to the touch.
Nowadays, I spend most of my time ogling photos of Oscar-winning, small-boned
women and miscellaneous French style bloggers.
important thing for you to know about me is that my favorite celebrities are
any celebrity I’ve been compared to. I don’t write for xoModest, after all. I
would never even read that, TBH.
Now, I’ve never
actually reached the level of delusion to legitimately believe I do look like
the women I’ve been told I look like. I know it comes down to vaguely similar
bone structure. I think the “traditional” standard of feminine beauty (which
is, IMO, on the way out, truly) consists of large eyes, a small nose, and full
As a kid, my parents called me “Bright Eyes” because my eyes were so big
and always weirdly wide open in Zooey D levels of youthful wonder, which is a
cute nickname until I remember that “Bright Eyes” is most closely associated in
my mind with the moping lost years of my tweenhood. My nose is just a nose, and
in middle school a boy made fun of my lips for being so big, which only caused
me to bite them more, which I think is the only reason they are slightly full to
Anyway, I’m good-looking but not particularly unique-looking, and that’s fine. I like my face
quite a bit. I really wouldn’t change anything about it any time soon.
what I would change? HERE’S A SEGUE FOR YA.
My hair! And I
do change that quite a bit. Whether I’m dying it or cutting it, I just can’t
leave it alone. It’s sort of my way of handling my post-collegiate, totally
contrived sense of millennial angst. It’s a better coping mechanism than
nursing a crippling amphetamine addiction or spending weeks on end in fetal
position curled on the sofa, and I can tell you that from experience.
Are you enjoying
this LiveJournal-esque glimpse into my addled psyche?
I’m going to dye
my hair blonde soon. Maybe. Probably. Yeah, it’s more of a question of “when” than
“if” at this point. Also, there’s the question of “how.” I mean, I know I’ll get it done at a salon because I’m actually a talentless
hack and would never attempt to DIY this or anything beyond macaroni frame-levels of competence.
Every time I
decide to make a major hair change, I come back to these celebrities people
compare me to sometimes.
If you’ve read
the comments on pretty much any article I’ve written here, you know which
celebrities I’m referring to. It’s primarily Winona Ryder, then Leighton
Meester, a little Natalie Portman, some Keira Knightley, and ONE TIME I got
Audrey Hepburn and, honestly, I’m still riding that high.
So I’m going to
dye my hair blonde. Which means I’ve been furiously Google image searching
“Blonde Winona Ryder,” which is just her Eddie Scissors look I already did.
Leighton Meester comes along, and I’m into it. Her blonde is very similar to
the rich Lily Pulitzer-clad chickens I went to all-girls school with.
I used to get
compared to Blair Waldorf a lot in high school, because the show came out when
I was 17 so I was the same age the characters were supposed to be and I’ve also
always been incredibly mean.
And then blonde
Natalie Portman. I think I was
vaguely aware of Nat Po for a while as a kid. I remember seeing Garden State in
theaters when I was 14 and being like, “Oooooh, so being an adult isn’t gonna be
any better, huh?”
It wasn’t until
a dude I had a crush on in high school (who was gay, like every dude I had a
crush on in high school) told me I looked like her that I got really into her
entire shtick. I rented Closer and V for Vendetta and became the intense,
brooding stripper/political activist I am today.
Side note: Nat Po and I have
similarly dorky laughs so that’s probably where half my
affection for her comes from.
I like her blonde. It’s a bit “cooler” than Leighton’s I think.
Then we just
keep scootin’ along the cyber highway, and I end up with Keira Knightley’s
I’m really into
her eye makeup here, and this dress. I always wished I were so skinny I could
wear really slutty things without actually looking slutty, ya know? Alas, I
have the birthing hips of a generation of the potato-chugging Irish Catholics who
came before me.
I really like Keira’s whole oeuvre. Half her films seem to be
the kind of stuff I can watch when I want to tune out, like Love, Actually or anything from the Pirates of the
Caribbean franchise. Then she’s got heavy stuff, like Atonement, that I watch
when I’m really sick of feeling good about my life in any way.
is OK. I’m afraid it might lean too brassy on me. It would go really well
with my Keira laugh impression, though. *Juts bottom jaw forward, cackles *
I don’t think
Audrey Hepburn ever went blonde. When you Google “Blonde Audrey Hepburn,” you
get images of Paris Hilton which is, I mean, whatever.
I’m not nervous
about “ruining” my hair. My hair’s really quite healthy and very resilient,
much like myself, against all odds. And if I do “ruin” my hair, then whatever.
It’s hair. I’ve ruined my own life enough times to know better than to go off
fretting about my hair. Some people have a deep, emotional attachment to their
hair. I have a deep, emotional attachment to dairy products. Also, one day
“fried hair” might be a thing. All the best foods are fried.
I forgot to ask
John Goodman his opinion on my upcoming hair decision, so I’d like yours
instead. Any advice/photos/guidance/haterade/secrets for future-blonde me?
Do you do the
same thing with celebrities? Most people have at least one famous person they
get compared to every now and then. Do you use that person as guidance for
beauty and/or life decisions? I want to hang out with Winona so bad.
Also, do you
think I should audition for the upcoming Broadway musical adaptation of Heathers?