Thursday, November 13, 2008

An Ode to Stylista

Glorious, glorious Stylista! I sing praises to you and your petulant, backbiting 22 year old contestants! I applaud your shameless appreciation of over-privileged trust-fundians competing for a position for which they have no training and little discernable talent. While I find your contestants completely abhorrent, their viciousness and cattiness towards each other most certainly make for great TV.

While I was wandering lost through the land of boring TV last night, cursing the Country Music Awards, I fell back in love with Stylista. While most other reality TV shows have become stale through their incessant repetition and their contestants mere caricatures of former, more interesting characters, Stylista has broken the mold. Well, in a way. Rather than have the contestants serving the time-worn reality roles (the average joe, the screaming queen, the homo-phobe, the power-hungry bitch) we see on every other reality competition currently aired. Though Stylista has more than it's fair share of queens and bitches, it is more the judges that fulfill stereotypical roles.

Anne Slowey and company are trying their best to put on their most supercilious "Anna Wintour" demeanor, but each show, this strikes me more and more as an act. The competitions to get Anne an outfit she'd wear in the Hamptons or to fix her breakfast are almost directly from The Devil Wears Prada, and Slowey seems mildly embarrassed by her cooperation with these tasks. It appears that she would prefer to do these tasks herself, and her irritation seems more to be with herself than the general incompetance of the contestants. I've worked for primadonnas before, and Slowey is a kitten in comparison with the lawyer that once left me a message at 4 am screaming about why I wasn't at work.

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