It Girl, Goop Girl, I Declare….

…I blush because I think I’m seeing Gwyneth Paltrow’s underwear. I’m not sure I’m supposed to be witnessing this. But she has been hanging around with Madonna a lot lately. Oh, come on now, it’s Gwyneth. Of course, she knows! She knows everything about fashion! But I must ask myself if this is someone who can offer useful fashion advice? Advice of any kind for that matter? Are those low cut sports socks?

Gwyneth Paltrow was declared an “It” girl before anyone had ever heard of her. I remember the first time she registered on my radar screen was on Entertainment Tonight; she was doing an early morning walk of shame as she fled Brad Pitt’s Hollywood bachelor pad. Wearing grey sweatpants and a limp ponytail, she still managed to look quite stunning as she coyly dipped her head away from the camera like an old Hollywood pro. Granted, dating Brad Pitt back in the day was newsworthy, but the scene still somehow felt as if it had been set in motion by a press release.

In the PR world, it is a potential problem when the client starts to believe a little too much in their own ink. This has always been my tofu with GP. The “don’t hate me because I’m beautiful and talented” image always feels ahead of itself, existing mostly in the head. Success is rarely attributed to luck or good timing. They’ll tell you they’ve manifested their destinies, by taking exceptional care of themselves (as opposed to the rest of us) through scientology, The Secret, macrobiotic diets, and yoga. What I’m feeling is more like a modern day version of The Emperor’s New Clothes.

That’s why I could smack myself for checking out Gweneth’s new website, GOOP… for three whole hours! I still don’t know what GOOP stands for except for the obvious G and P. My guess is it’s some kind of double ring homage to Oprah. (She thinks we don’t see how she’s intentionally creating this new role for herself: the tall, white, Gen X version of Oprah.) The site’s content written by Gwyneth herself displays many telltale signs of deep inner conflict, such as a food newsletters called things like “Pancakes, Tuna Sandwiches and Black Pepper Chicken.”

My theory is that women like GP, who are blessed with both taste and means, discern subtleties most of us have no hope, nor want, in these challenging economic times, of seeing. This is all but proven in her page dedicated to the little black dress. At least two or three of the expensive, yet remarkably un-photogenic dresses are similar enough that perhaps a more appealing article for the average web surfing woman would have been simply how to accessorize. (Or how to photoshop ourselves into 6 foot tall toothpicks and look better than we ever could hope, even when wearing ankle boots.) Her accessory choices do rock, but in a disappointing Vogue “I’ll never own it” way. The Gucci and Laboutin and Roger Vivier boots she’s sporting undoubtedly cost more than the all of the dresses combined (one which I’m pretty sure is a shirt, at least on Gwyneth. On a short woman, such as those an inch shorter than me, a knee length dress). And there won’t be decent knock offs at Payless at least for a year. Big help you are, GP!

Personally, I don’t believe for a minute that Gwyneth, in placing her unreachable lifestyle on display didn’t know she was making a few of us (not me, of course) jealous. She takes an Oscar-worthy stab at sincerity at the close of a fashion layout when she notes, “Many of you asked what leggings I was wearing in the last GET – my favorites are made by Alice + Olivia.” (which last I checked – two minutes ago on the Sax website – were $148.) Are there really that “Many of you” who have the leisure of writing to GP asking her about her ultralux, yet generic looking black leggings? Haven’t you been to Target? Do you really exist, Goop Girls? Yes, in a travel section where she waxes on what she possessively calls “My London,” she refers to this same group of virtual, possibly non-existent wanna bees who are anxiously amassed at their computers waiting for a Paltrow lifestyle morsel, as, no lie, “The Goop Girls.”

I guess I should be embarrassed that I rubbernecked at GOOP for most of the afternoon. This does not mean I’m a “Goop Girl.” Got it?

But it was hard not to stare. How does she do it? Does she believe that her life is really the result of living her the website’s tagline, “Nourish the inner aspect”? The high school educated, self promoting classy girl, born to famous parents, with a well honed edgy side and ubiquitous, flitting “it” girl image and a sensitive rock star husband, and strangely, but possibly Biblically named children is hard to figure.

Last year, I remember in an interview she said how the British are more civilized and intelligent than Americans, and converse better at dinner. Ms. Judgy will be very disappointed to hear that this ungracious statement has led me to vow to never invite her over. I had to do this a few years back with Martha Stewart. If I was forced to have one of them over, by say, my good friend, Oprah, I would be scared senseless in fear of what they might discern about me. I think I’d choose Martha, because I could call a caterer and undoubtedly, she would bring a more useful hostess gift. Gwyneth would give me something trendy that would make me feel short, and like a bumpkin. She wouldn’t say anything damning to my face, of course, but something slightly snippy weeks later to a Belgian tabloid, without using my name, about my inability to speak with a fake British accent on her level and my leggings from Wal-Mart. She might even be offended that I wasn’t serving pancakes and tuna sandwiches AND black pepper chicken. She would tell the real Goop girls all about it, with a discrete roll of the eyes and by what is left unsaid. Now Oprah, she can come over anytime.

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