Myth of ‘portable pillow’ posterior
“Does my bum look big in this?” is the question I should, apparently, be constantly asking myself this summer, and hoping the answers I get are in the affirmative.
Yes, this is the summer when we must whoop with delight when told that our posteriors are cheeky and chunky, and it’s all thanks to one woman out there: Kim Kardashian.
You might know Ms Kardashian from her reality television series on E! Channel, starring, of course, herself.
Or you might have read about her being the highest earning reality star, with an estimated income of $6 million.
If not, you may possibly know her as the one who got married last year amid lots of pomp and ceremony and then filed for divorce 72 days after the wedding.
But most probably you know her from her butt, which magazines describe as “a celebrity in its own right”.
Our Kardashian’s rear view has whole blogs dedicated to it, and has been described as wondrous as “a portable pillow”. (I can’t get over this description).
Bottom line – excuse the pun – is that she is doing what Pamela Anderson, back in her Baywatch days, did to breasts: mendrooled, and women queued at the plastic surgeon.
But whereas Pammy was harmless, this one is noxious, with her mindless, soulless lifestyle constantly on show, seeping into our way of being. It’s as if her backside has invaded our brains and is intent on pushing out anything else in there.
I am genuinely worried that this Kardashian culture is taking over.
Last weekend at the beach, in our flip-flops, floppy hats and sarongs, we stood out like sore thumbs among girls in ‘cocktail’ dress-wear and eight-inch heels trying to manoeuvre their way on the sand.
At Ta’ Qali, where we were picnicking the next afternoon, we were surrounded by people in Saturday evening wear: tight jeans, heels, and all of Shasha’s make-up kit plastered to their faces. When football fans trailed out of the stadium at 4 p.m., we were regaled by the sight of girls in microscopic dresses.
I’m sure their butt cheeks and breasts kept popping out with every “Goal” they screamed.
It’s not just that we think we have to be dolled up every second of the day, irrespective of the activity we’re doing. It’s worse: we have lost the art of gentle sensuality in our dress code. It’s all about being bang in your face, nearly-nude crude. Kim’s the king, you see.
If it’s of any consolation it’s not only in Malta. The western appreciation of beauty is becoming twisted and thwarted. We approve of the trashy and the ugly but we lambast the artistry.
Just the other day in London, a modern depiction of the Greek myth of Leda and the Swan was taken down because Metropolitan police officers – who had no idea of this beautiful mythological story – found it offensive.
The Scream gallery in Mayfair had exhibited the artwork of top photographer Derrick Santini, which included a photograph of a naked woman and a swan as an interpretation of the myth.
Policemen trooped to the gallery and informed the director that the photograph was condoning bestiality “which was an arrestable offence”.
“It’s crazy. The cultural references were lost on them,” said the gallery director. She tried explaining how according to Greek mythology, Zeus transformed into a swan and seduced the human Leda, who went on to give birth to the fatal beauty, Helen of Troy.
It is an age-old myth whichis violent, sensual and captivating and has been addressed by many artists before, including the great Leonardo da Vinciand Michelangelo.
But the policemen said they didn’t know anything about the myth and stood there until the photo was taken down.
This is all, of course, very familiar territory. We had our own Stitching and Li Tkisser Sewwi, here. The scary thing is that which is clearly artistic is being stamped upon.
Why? Because our cultural knowledge is being eradicated to make space in our brains for the likes of the Karadashian trash.
Instead of trying to be politically correct over the art scene, I’d like to see the police trawl the pages of Facebook and have a stern chat with those people posing against rocks in straps of leather, pouting and flipping the bird.
Or better still, they should raid our homes and check if we’re watching E! – now that should be an arrestable offence.
I am actually tired of people going on about this ‘live and let live’ faux-philosophy. You know what? I can’t sit back and let crudeness become a culture.
At this rate the only myth our children will have when they grow up is the one about a woman with a portable pillow posterior.