From runways to red carpets to Instagram and Snapchat, celebrity overexposure is inescapable. We’re drowning in underboob. Bombarded with sideboob. Nip slips. Crotch slips. Bare-bottom flashes. All of the above, all at once.
The problem, my fellow Americans, is not that we live in an age of wardrobe malfunctions. It’s that we live in an age of dignity malfunctions.
It’s one thing for the notorious Kim Kardashian, sex-tape celebrity–turned–sex-tape celebrity, to prance into the Rome Opera House flashing her cartoon cleavage and industrial-strength Spanx for the cameras as she did last weekend.
The trouble is that the Kardashian deviancy is now the norm among female entertainers who consider themselves trailblazing feminists.
Top designers seem to be engaged in a bizarre competition to use the least amount of tenuously placed fabric to clothe (LOL) their A-list clients. Tragically, none of the sycophants who surround the young starlets — not their fully-clothed agents, parents, BFFs, husbands, or boyfriends — has the guts to tell these double-sided duct-taped divas that they look utterly ridiculous.