by Benn Ray
She's a 21-year old mom. That's gotta suck.
And she's being subjected to a fashion intervention. She has this goth/punk look going (less-punk, more goth), and her mother, her uncle and some stylist are all telling her that she has a terrible style. That it's inappropriate for a mother to look that way, with her dark clothes, dyed-red hair, Bettie Page bangs, tattoos, and her make-up (which, admittedly, is unflattering in that "wants to be a make-up artist but never went to make-up artist school" sorta way).
She also has no eyebrows. She's plucked 'em all out and drawn 'em back on, and I cannot abide eyebrowlessness. So there's that.
The goth/punk girl's mother points out that they want her to find a decent man (the family seems pretty dissatisfied with her current boyfriend), and she never will be able to looking the way she does (and with the eyebrow thing, maybe she has a point).
Mediating this massacre is an aging soap opera has-been wearing a designer t-shirt that unintentionally-ironically (isn't there a word for that?) displays the word "PUNK."
I have just walked into the living room and have become immediately sucked in to some Style Network TV Show that Rachel has on while she knits. I'm captivated in that way that I am sometimes drawn, for a second or two, to the FOX News Channel... you can't believe how awful what you are seeing is, how much it offends you as a human being, but you watch because the indignation and outrage feel kinda good.
After the family have their way with the young mom, belittle her for her "look", and throw away her make-up it's time for some one-on-one time with the hostess (Fiona something, she has a british accent and was on General Hospital I think. Was that the one with Blackie?).
With a straight face, the host asks the girl in a disapproving way, "Why is it so important for you to look different?"
Right there, in a brief moment, the entirety of American consumerism is summed up.
Shop at Old Navy. Drink Starbucks Coffee. Rent Blockbuster Videos. Go to Loews Cineplexes. Eat Outback Steakhouse. Wear Nikes. Dye with Clairol. Drink Budweiser. Drink Coca-Cola. Pop in for lunch at Subway. Wash with Dial. Lotion up with Oil of Olay. Drive a Dodge. Buy jewelry from Kay's. Go to the malls. Live in the suburbs. But only in a NEW home. Listen to pop radio. Buy labels. Shop the way you are told. And don't be weird. After all, you have a kid. A good mom teaches her kid to consume like an American, not a weirdo. And you do want to find a man, yes?
So I end up watching the whole goddamn episode of HOW DO I LOOK? And I feel pity for this young, awkward, insecure single mom who is being beaten into stylistic mediocrity by those who claim to love her, right there on national tv (well, on basic cable).
I sympathize with her and hope she holds out on them right up until the end when she has to choose a new wardrobe from 3 options, one designed by her uncle, one by her mother and one by the obnoxious (in that "coulda been rejected from The Facts Of Life auditions if she was 20 years older" sorta way) show designer.
Claiming she didn't like the Ramones logo on a t-shirt, the young mom opts of the wardrobe with the Siouxsie & The Banshees t-shirt instead.
She choose Siouxsie & The Banshees over the Ramones.
At that point, my pity turned to hatred, and I hoped her family would manage to squash any molecule of self-respect and individualism from her. She's as punk as ol' Fiona Whatserface's t-shirt.
Siouxsie & The Banshees over the Ramones. What an idiot.
