There’s a feature that often accompanies pictures of celebrities on websites called “Get this look.” The pop-up directs you to sales points for the fashions and accessories similar to what the celebs are wearing so that you, too, can look like a celebrity, which we know is always better than looking like yourself.
I just saw a picture of Miley Cyrus dashing off to a recording studio in low-slung white leggings and a white-cropped T-shirt exposing her belly. The girl is so lean as to be dehydrated. Clearly, she does crunches in her sleep and avoids carbs like incoming missiles. The “Get this look” feature displays sunglasses similar to the pair Miley is wearing for only $18.
Sure, I could cough up 18 smackers. I could get the sunglasses. But I would not look like Miley Cyrus. If at any time I thought a pair of sunglasses might make me look like Miley Cyrus, someone should put me away.
And if you buy the sunglasses, you probably won’t have the look either. Was that harsh? I’m so sorry.
But let me tell you this: In some cases I’m not so sure you want the look.
It’s a good thing news outlets label the celebrities as celebrities, because some of them are dressed so casually that it’s difficult to tell if they are rich and famous or destitute and seeking shelter.
A number of rich and famous young women seem to have anger issues with their shirts. It looks like they took a man’s T-shirt, cut it off with scissors in a fit of fury and then stretched the bottom so violently that it is wavy and exceptionally ill-fitting.
If you truly wanted to “Get this look,” you would have to rage in your man’s dresser drawer. Or go Dumpster diving.
I actually like the “Get this look” feature. I only wish those words could hover over those we meet in real time. This would eliminate those awkward moments of complimenting someone on something they are wearing, hoping they might mention where it came from and if it was on sale.
Then again, I would not particularly want it to hover over the husband. It would point to articles of his clothing and say, “Get this look: Available only from the back of the closet.” Or, “Get this look: His wife said that if he wore that shirt again, it would be over her dead body. He’s still wearing it, and she’s still alive.”
Actually, I wouldn’t want it hovering over me, either. It would point to me and say, “Get this look: Workout pants, out-of-style, out-of-stock. She wears them to make it look like she works out, but she rarely does.”
Our daughter emailed us an illustration from a children’s book of a grandma who looks considerably advanced in age, with her hair in rollers, and a grandpa of a similar age slouched on a sofa in a cardigan. She said her girls saw it and yelled, “Grandma! Grandpa!” and then kissed the picture.
We’ve got the look all right. And the kisses.
Lori Borgman is the author of “The Death of Common Sense and Profiles of Those Who Knew Him.” Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org