"I Seem to Have Left My Talent in My Other Prada Bag"

Britney. Paris. Nicole. Jessica. Lindsay. Sprinkle ‘em all over Los Angeles and New York, and you got yourself a giant Hollywood starlet tartlet—some of the world’s biggest household names, many of whom do nothing but make themselves worth the flashbulbs.

“Celebrity” is an elusive term, increasingly encompassing more than just talented folks. While there was a time when society was predominantly fascinated with athletes, musicians and movie stars, nowadays all it takes to score oneself some fame is being a runaway bride (“‘Runaway bride’ in deal to sell life story”) or a drama-riddled rich girl with “problems” and hair extensions.

The notion of “celebrity” has altered so much that one can be a celebrity by association. The paparazzi will take pellet gunshots to their extremities to get a photographic glimpse of a pregnant Britney Spears (“Photographer shot staking out Britney Spears”). Even before the birth of her son, Sean Preston, I don’t recall a more famous fetus. The kid hadn't so much as taken his first piss yet and the celebrity weeklies are annointing him heir extraordinaire to Miss Spears's fortunes.

Then there are the celebrity siblings. As long as you share a surname (and perhaps a bloodtype), you're handed a golden ticket for the express train to Hollywood. The Simpsons. The Spears. The Lohans. Jessica, Britney and Lindsay have laid down the yellow bricks on their road to stardom (their personal assistants probably did the heavy lifting). All Ashlee, Jamie-Lynn and Alli have to do is walk across.

Fame is a remarkable thing. It seems easy enough to achieve. We think, “If she can do it, why can’t I?” But after spending more time waiting in long lines for various casting calls and auditions than actually exercising some talent (whatever that may be), fame can seem intangible. Being first doesn’t always mean being best. After the judges sift through the “ugly”—as in untalented or bad looking—you still may be one of twenty other hopefuls. Damn those Laguna Beach kids, they make it look so simple!

Celebrity-dom has become all the rage thanks to reality TV. Reality TV “stars” are recognized almost everywhere and are invited to the hottest parties, award shows, and movie/club openings just for playing themselves on TV. These individuals are more recognizable than Nobel Prize winners, high-profile politicians, and Academy Award-winning actors.

The most prominent example of this is MTV’s Laguna Beach cast. Apparently Kristin Cavalleri is the new “it” girl, appearing at some of the biggest Hollywood shindigs. I guess it helps to be pretty, blonde (or “blonde”), and fabulously wealthy – a somewhat common formula for fame nowadays. Cavalleri has even parlayed her real world drama into a hosting gig for the UPN network’s new show Get The Party Started.

Wouldn’t it be nice to get my hair did and lay out on the beach all day while getting paid for it? I’m clearly in the wrong business.

Why the fascination? Why are we, as members of a mainstream society, so obsessed with celebrity culture that we have to fabricate celebrities for our amusement? Get a bunch of dumb, hot teenagers together in a room and you got mucho drama, sex drive and a beautiful, messy recipe for fame that no one can resist.

If celebrity has become more tasteless, then no one has epitomized that notion more than everyone’s favorite heiress and tabloid whore herself, Paris Hilton. Besides maybe showing off her snatch in a porn video and being worth billions of dollars thanks to Daddy Hilton’s hotel franchise, what else has she contributed to society to elicit such fame (i.e., make herself matter)?

Paris does get around all right. She’s appeared on covers of Maxim, FHM and Elle magazines. She keeps every major airline in business by flying back and forth between New York and L.A. to dance on tabletops at the hottest Hollywood parties. She even appears at every high profile award show including the MTV Video Music Awards, Billboard Music Awards and American Music Awards.

But why?

Why do the paparazzi adore her? What is it about Paris Hilton that has digital cameras in a photographic frenzy?

I’m beginning to think it’s appealing to exploit stupid people, especially stupid rich people. Maybe we draw more attention to these people by photographing and talking about them so much. But in the end, I think it makes us “ordinary” folk feel better about ourselves when someone like Paris Hilton gets her dirty laundry exposed, so to speak, to the entire world.

Paris isn’t famous because she’s rich. There are many non-famous wealthy individuals, of course. Her semi-porn star moment coupled with her media and celebrity connections has catapulted her to the front pages of Star Magazine, Us Weekly and OK! Magazine.

But instead of being associated with everything Hollywood, Paris now seeks to become Hollywood. She fulfilled many a dream when she got slashed in box-office bomb House of Wax. She currently stretches herself by playing herself on FOX’s the Simple Life, which also features former tabletop buddy/celebutante, Nicole Richie. So what’s left but record an album with the music industry’s hottest producers?

No, talent and substance are no longer requirements of becoming objects of the public’s fascination. Jessica Simpson proved to us all that being a ditzy blonde, a reckless spender, and the thorn in her soon-to-be-ex-husband Nick Lachey’s side on an MTV show (Newlyweds) is all it takes to get on the fast track to stardom. Apparently fame entails way more than being a mediocre singer with some catchy hit songs.

Maybe someone should’ve told Britney that.