In normal times this would be when the rich and fabulous gather on far and away beaches to work on their tan for the awards season. Them, plus herds of paparazzi to immortalise the stars’ extraordinary moments. This year, alas, it’s only been Jennifer Lopez’ backside in Turks and Caicos that has perkily greeted me every morning as I open the internet.
I meekly take any scantily clad celebrity body, don’t get me wrong. We make adjustments when in dire straits, and I’m not greedy. But I do love awards season and terribly miss the build up this year. Awards season takes place during the time of the year when everything else is usually massively boring: everybody is engaged in dry January, not socially smoking, or otherwise taken with some new, strenuous exercise routine. New stuff is not yet in the shops and the weather is miserable. So weeks of escaping to La La Land – absolutely.
This year everything has been pushed forward. Should everything go to plan, and if last year taught us anything, it most certainly won’t, Golden Globes should be the first gala on 28 February. Screen Actors Guild Awards (casually the SAG Awards) will be held on 4 April. Here, let’s take a quick moment to reminiscence in last year’s SAG awards backstage situation between Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt. It truly did seem everything was possible before this wretched pestilence landed.
Oscars shortlist will be published on 9 February, and of course nobody will be able to see any of the movies, but maybe they will make the trailers available. The gala itself is scheduled for 25 April. The BAFTAs will be announced on 11 April.
As for the actual galas, I’m in for the frocks and the gossip. I am also absolutely fascinated by the processes that celebrities employ to reconstruct themselves for the red carpet: claiming a 5 day juice detox, but actually existing on dust and filtered oxygen for weeks. Praising a miracle-making eye shadow on Instagram, but omitting contact details of their plastic surgeons. I do realise I’m being lied to my face, but it’s still fascinating.
Red carpet events are rarely huge high-fashion moments, and often the edgier ensembles are paraded later at the afterparties. Vanity Fair -do is a favourite, and luckily they make lots of high quality photographs available on their website.
The wait is long this year, especially as there’s so little to do to entertain self in the meanwhile. The ubiquitous, photo-shopped J.Lo’s cheeks have every now and then prompted the thought of seriously taking up dry brushing, what with it being January and all, but so far I’ve resisted, although I’ve mentioned it so many times here that the brush might be deserving of its own blog soon.
Like everybody else, I am curious to see Sex and the City comeback later this year. The show’s writers and stylists and producers have already been getting plenty advise on how to make And Just Like That… more inclusive, politically correct, woke, realistic, feminist (but not too), sensitive to the pandemic and economic situation, considerate of young designers and small enterprises, animals, vegans and vegetarians and everybody and everything else under the sun.
I hope they are taking none of this advise.
I hope more politicians and people in public service took such advise.
It’s the same with a red carpet juice cleanse – I know it’s baloney, but I want my entertainment straight up fantastical.
Photo credit: Some brilliant soul on @pretenditsacity Instagram feed.