As movies were discovered, movie stars inevitably followed. The followers of aristocrats died, and those people who were desperate for someone to deify, for the most part, switched their allegiance to the pretty faces of the twenties. Even normally sensible people had had their heads turned by the horrors of the war, and flung themselves into hero-worship of the actors of the exciting new invention of cinema.
The previous invention of the gramophone had produced another outlet for people’s urge to idolise. No longer content for the occasional minstrel to wander by, or for a family member to strum a tune on the harp, singers were pounced on, as the human yearning for music, and admiration for those who can carry a tune, manifested itself.
Enticed by the lure of profit, a new genre of magazine sprung up: the ‘glossy’. No longer had people to endure the boringness of discovering new facts when they perused a magazine! No longer had they to bother to think when reading! No, they could read about the contents of stars’ dustbins to their hearts’ content! Fashion magazines such as Vogue are positively hefty tomes in comparison (though maybe not, as so much paper is wasted by advertisements, on top of that which is wasted on actual articles).
The popularity of the ‘X-Factor’ and shows of its ilk is a sad testimony to the state of our society. People are desperate to be famous; their lives’ ambitions to grab their fifteen minutes of fame (though that is possibly a bit too much of an exaggeration: five seconds might be a better estimation for the majority of reality television’s0 winners). If you, however, think about any of these shows, names that spring to mind are: Girls Aloud and Will Young and… and that is really about it. And none of them are actually great singers!
Even though celebrities now have to at least start their careers by being good at something (apart for rich heiresses such as Paris Hilton, but let’s not waste any more paper on her), and ‘celebrities’ (aka nobility) of past times had only to be born, is there really so much more cause for applause in singing (often bad songs that only sell because of raunchy videos) than in performing open heart surgery? Why is fame and glory given to those who happen to be tall and slim, when refuse collectors pay a far more important part in society and are only acknowledged with a snigger, and a “You don’t want to be a bin man!”
Being the not entirely photogenic person that I am, perhaps I am predisposed to dislike those who have been airbrushed beyond belief, and am slightly bitter. It is true that one of my friends, who is normally quite sensible, and who never has a bad photograph taken of her, does like to flick through a celebrity magazine once or twice a week to keep abreast of the top gossip. Is it because she looks good herself without being airbrushed? I do not know.
When will our obsession with celebrities end? Personally, I think that it is a part of our nature to harbour infatuations and to idolise people. Maybe if more people were religious and idolised God instead then our mania would cease. In times, however, when tens of thousands of dollars are paid for a picture of a celebrity’s baby, and new glossy magazines spring from newsagents’ shelves every week, I do not think it will stop for a very long time.
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