From the book’s Introduction:
“Dear Tom & Lorenzo,” the email began, “I have wide hips and small shoulders. From the time I was a child I’ve been shy and awkward. I want to make a change before I turn forty and I want to start with my clothes. How can I bring some red carpet glamour to my day-to-day life?”
We didn’t used to get emails like this, but we’d recently started a semi-bitchy, totally gay fashion and celebrity blog that surprised us by gaining an audience, and since we’d tricked people into thinking we were style experts, we occasionally received sweet missives from pear-shaped ladies who needed a boost of confidence more than fashion advice. But how to continue the illusion that we know what we’re talking about while still giving her some helpful tips?
We’d somehow stumbled into a hobby, which later—against all odds and reason—turned into a profession that had us reading publicist press releases, obsessing over red carpet photos all day, and conducting celebrity interviews. Despite giving pear-shaped ladies the impression that we’re somehow insiders to this world, all of this was not in our nature. Prior to the unlikely series of events that resulted in our becoming pop culture and fashion bloggers, we tended to have a positively Elizabethan attitude regarding celebrities; namely, that people who choose to go into the entertainment field are most likely deranged, with severe attention-seeking disorders, and that no respectable person would dare consider interacting with any whenever they appear somewhere that isn’t a stage. Alas, we live in a world where people revere their celebrities and don’t say things like “alas” anymore, so our ideas about this sort of thing tend to come across a little, shall we say, archaic.
Lady Pear felt bad about herself at least in part (a BIG part) because she lived in a world where circus performers with eating disorders were worshipped like golden idols. Who better to turn to for the kind of advice she really needed than those very clowns and tumblers? Wouldn’t it be delicious if we could pull something from the yawning wastelands known as the celebrity mindset and turn it around so it can be useful to a person without an entourage? What is the essence of the celebrity philosophy and how could we boil it down to one refrigerator magnet of inspiration?
“Darling, every day, before you leave the house,” we instructed Lady Pear, after giving her some standard style recommendations, “look in the mirror and tell yourself, Everyone wants to be me or do me.”
Sure, it sounds more like something a serial killer would scrawl on a mirror in lipstick rather than a proverb, but it perfectly represented the self-absorption that characterizes how celebrities see themselves. Lady Pear loved the sentiment, and we sent her out in the world with our blessing to be as happily self-involved as she needs to be. Last we heard, she was seen strutting.
We don’t believe anyone should look to us for advice any more than you should look to celebrities, but if you must look up to them, then at least look up to them for their self-confidence, and the ways in which they use it to craft a seemingly invulnerable persona and then force the world around them to accept it. We could all use a little more of that in our lives and a little less fretting over our hips or whether our clothes are cool enough.
What if we wrote something about all the ways in which celebrities essentially convince themselves and everyone else into thinking they’re special? What if we looked—really looked— at all the things they do to get famous, stay famous, and hold on to that fame at any cost when it starts slipping away? What if we wrote something to help all those Lords and Ladies Pear realize that they are no different from celebrities and that all fruits are beautifully shaped, no matter what the fashion and gossip magazines tell them; that everyone is exactly who they need to be; that we’re all starring in our own movie; and most important of all, that life is all about resisting the impulse to believe the world when it tries to tell you who you are?
Okay, what if we just made fun of celebrities a lot? Same thing.
So this book isn’t about us imparting advice to you. Unlike celebrities, we’re more than willing to ask the question “Why the hell should you listen to anything we have to say about life?” No, this is about taking a hard look at what celebrities do to become and then remain celebrities and taking the real lessons away from it, boiling them down to sometimes hilariously simple affirmations which don’t so much build up self-confidence as they render the opinions of the rest of the world utterly moot (which, from a distance, looks like the same thing). It’ll be up to you to decide if the lessons imparted here are helpful or monstrous. We suspect they’ll fall somewhere in the middle and be either monstrously helpful or helpfully monstrous, but the point to all of them is the same: The stars have entire armies of people dedicated to telling them how fabulous they are every day of their lives. You have a mirror. Get in front of it and be your own publicist, darling.