The cult of celebrity

A contribution from a guest writer, Stef Mulleri.

One of the free evening rags recently reported that Paris Hilton was paid £70k to make a 1.5 hour appearance at a well-known Mayfair nightclub. This amounts to £777 per minute, an astronomical figure for someone who has gained fame through a complete absence of discernable talent.

If business is led by supply and demand, then surely there is a demand for Paris Hilton and her talent-free friends. But why? What is it that drives otherwise intelligent, rational and sensible people to devour gossip magazines and dissect the lives of celebrities as if they were intimate acquaintances? I can’t help but wonder; are we turning into a population of celebrity worshippers?

Guilty as charged

I know the names of all of Brangelina’s multi-coloured brood (adopted and biological), including country of origin and order of birth/adoption. In the spirit of reform, my new year’s resolution was to give up buying Heat magazine. I now bypass this by getting Closer instead. I am guilty of furthering the careers of people who have become famous largely through experiencing fifteen minutes of fame on Big Brother or perhaps from being married/engaged to a footballer.

I can’t help but wonder; are we turning into a population of celebrity worshippers?

And there are literally tens of thousands, if not millions, of women (and men) like me who take an enormous and bizarre pleasure in reading about the private lives of celebrities. We talk about them, lust after them, comment on their outfits, take sides in disputes and gloat when we see them pictured in compromising situations.

There is clearly some form of therapy to be found in seeing through the façade of physical perfection that we ‘civilians’ are bombarded with on a daily basis. But it’s not only that, there is certainly also a level of voyeuristic self-indulgence in reading details that are actually none of our business.

Milking the cow

The celebrity cash cow has never been fatter than in the 21st century. With celebrities endorsing everything from clothes and cosmetics to insurance policies, their power and reach is inescapable. They are brands in themselves (Exhibit A: the Beckhams). Many of them clearly have canny and astute business minds beneath the fake tan and hair extensions, but more often than not it is our own gullibility and naïveté that fills their already bulging pockets. Virtually every consumer decision we make is driven by an almost subliminal celebrity influence.

Many of them clearly have canny and astute business minds beneath the fake tan and hair extensions

The element of ‘Emperor’s new clothes’, by which everything celebrities wear and do is revered, seems to have blinkered us, and nowhere more so than the teenage demographic. Never has a society been more obsessed with appearances and everywhere we are bombarded with clinically underweight celebrities being hailed as style icons.

The same goes for drugs and alcohol. For every actor/singer/writer that lives a dignified, quiet life away from the cameras, there are ten who are in and out of rehab more often that one eats hot dinners. And therein lies the danger. We are becoming too fervent in our worship of celebrities.

Setting the wrong example

Amy Winehouse, for example, was recently voted a top female role model for young people. The same Amy Winehouse who is now regularly pictured imbibing some form of illegal substance and appears a million miles away from her former self. If she is a role model, what kind of lifestyle are we promoting?
I can clearly see the influences of celebrity in my own life. My hairstyles, clothes and cosmetic choices are pre-determined by what I see in magazines and on the television. Even my manner of speaking, littered with Americanisms, is evidence of the influence of the Hollywood cult.

With the new series of Big Brother, a show that has previously showcased bullying, racism and extreme quantities of vanity, on our screens, maybe we should ask ourselves whether or not we are actually willing to sacrifice ourselves and future generations on the altar of celebrity. For the current housemates, one imagines the answer is a resounding yes.