So ever since Taylor Momsen was kicked to the curb by Madonna for being too risque, and therefore, too much of a risk, Kelly Osbourne has been chosen to run as the face of Madonna’s Macy’s clothing line, Material Girl.
So now, instead of chasing after Taylor and her people with a scrub brush and some sanitizer, Madonna’s people are going to be chasing Kelly around with a measuring tape and Wheat Thins. I guess it’s the lesser of two evils, right?
Really though, joking aside, Kelly looks great and I’m SO glad to see how increasingly healthy she’s become over the past few years. She’s gorgeous, looks happy, and above all, doesn’t have that drug-and-food-induced pallor of shame and self-abuse that she used to carry around with her wherever she went. Anyone’s better than Taylor Momsen as the spokesperson for practically anything (aside from something like a gonorrhea prevention PSA), and who better to replace her with than someone who’s actually been on the road to recovery – not so much that entertaining-but-sad one known as ‘inevitable destruction‘?
Our beautiful little flower Taylor Momsen just did the Korean version of Nylon Magazine (did you know there’s a Korean Nylon? Me neither.) and I’m so thrilled that this is probably what our Asian pals think American teens are like. Of course there’s absolutely no one more classy or qualified to represent the teenage masses. Taylor’s given us endless evidence that she’s a role model and a shining example of what an underage lady should be.
I don’t exactly know what type of fashion statement girlfriend was trying to make, ’cause I was too busy staring at her pale, flaccid Marilyn Manson-like ass, but hey. I guess everyone’s got to get their attention somehow or another, right? It’s just a shame that a girl with such potential (you guys remember that fucking stellar performance as Cindy Lou Who in the big-screen rendition of How the Grinch Stole Christmas – bah, breathtaking) would result to wearing something that so closely resembles assless chaps to a premiere with peers of her own age group.
It’s been a big year for Sexy Teen Taylor Momsen. I was one of her biggest supporters for awhile, but now I’m just like, “Girl, you do adult things with your young body. We get it.”
Her new ad for John Galliano’s Parlez-Moi d’Amour isn’t any different. The actress writhes about in skimpy lingerie to one of her own songs (which actually isn’t all that bad, surprisingly), while spraying herself down with an envelope-shaped bottle and holding a piece of parchment and an old school quill pen.
“Glasgow, you are looking good tonight. We are The Pretty Reckless and we have heard Glasgow is the craziest crowd in all of England.”
- Taylor Momsen, taking some time out of her concert to give a shout-out to the little English village of Glasgow.
Oh, Taylor, no. Not so much. I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt and propose that maybe she just got confused and said the wrong country’s name, but just because I don’t want to think that a 17-year-old doesn’t know where Glasgow is. That’s too sad, even for her.
“It was held up in legal for a long time because I was 16 when we shot that. We couldn’t release it because, yes, I actually got naked.
It’s such a complex song – and the video really reflects the song, in the way that I’d die for this person. And the point is: if you don’t do something that’s making you happy, you’re just working through possessions and shit; you’re dying with nothing anyway. So I’m stripping off my worldly possessions and giving them away. And then there’s hell raining down, just cause it looks cool.”
Oh wow. Nakedness to imply nothingness. What a deep-ass concept, Taylor. *longest sigh imaginable*
In the legal version, Taylor compromised and wore some lingerie, but part of me can’t even believe the other version exists. I mean, who sat there and filmed a 16-year old girl writhing about with a microphone in her hand? Why was this allowed in the first place?
For my own personal caption, I chose to write a letter, as any pithy little statement I could make could not express the full nature of my feelings. The letter got a little personal and quite lengthy, so I’m not going to share it with you guys, but suffice it to say that it takes up about five pages in my unicorn journal and that the ink was smudged by my tears. It’s filled with allusions to Bon Jovi songs (“Taylor, in this world, we gotta hold on to what we got, and what I got is a powerful Bon Jovi love and a bad case of envy”) and statements of incredulity (“You’re standing next to Jon Bon Jovi and you can’t even muster up a smile? Really?”). In short, this blatant lack of appreciation for the majesty that is Bon Jovi is appalling to me.