A thought struck me the other day -- harder than how reality must strike Tatum O'Neal when she's coming off a killer high. We now live in an era where celebrity is worthless. Once upon a time, we had Hollywood icons who were free to meltdown and build back up at their own leisure. Iconic hot messes like Judy Garland and Marilyn Monroe were role models. Even Courtney Love, in Hole's heyday, had some significance. These are stars whose achievements we were able to repurpose as points of inspiration and whose miseries transformed into our cautionary tales. I suppose there's something to be said about stars like Courtney who sets up a MySpace page in order to break that fourth wall and become BFFs with their fans is actively breaking down their own mythos and their ability to ascend into the cult of celebrity. But with yellow journalists and paparazzi hungrier than ever for any sign of a melt down (shaved head, a stray line of coke just south of a nostril, a bicurious dalliance with an openly gay DJ are just a few indicators they look for), the Hollywood star is quickly becoming an endangered species This very demise of the celebrity identity is what spurred us to fashion this issue. With Hollywood's A-list resembling a revolving door more so than a cast-iron monarchy, there's perhaps something sad in the concept of the Hollywood star who can no longer command millions of Americans to the theatre without the clutch of heavy advertising. Our homage to Fame, then, is a celebration of a bygone era and a roundabout reprimand of a current era that would sooner give Denise Richards a chance to expose her boneheadedness on camera than give erstwhile icons like Whitney Houston one more chance to find her fallen star. xo, Rohin Guha, Founding Editor |