We all care about how we look.  Even those who say they don’t.  We all have gone into the shop and picked out that shirt or, mmm, that skirt.  We wouldn’t have chosen that item if we didn’t care how it looked.  Even that pair of black trousers or that grey shirt.  We chose them for a reason.

We all care about how we look

But why go buy that pair of harem pants?  Seriously.  You’ve got usually stunningly dressed women, the type us females want to emulate (if only we had the money and the lifestyle) but, then put them in the harem pants and you’ve got a walking disaster.  These grown ladies look like they’ve gone out wearing the most indiscreet of nappies.  If a toddler was walking around looking such like, their nappy would be changed, pronto.  Why would you want to look like that?  Why would THEY want to look like that?  Especially when these are the type of ladies who have a couple of thousand at their disposal to be able to afford that  much coveted Hervé Léger dress, or some other high-fashion designer’s work of art.

Rachel Stevens likes them. Must be good

I cannot walk into a high-street store without being ‘greeted’ by this monstrosity.  The MC Hammer pants.  I’m reaching a period where I feel I simply must pick up a pair (I’m thinking turquoise blue, or something, if I’m going to do this, I may as well go the whole hog) and try some on.  For a laugh, of course.  But I’m too scared.  What if, shock horror, a salesperson or fellow shopper thinks I’m picking them up because I like them.  Oh, the shame.

Please don’t touch this…..

And then, what if, as I’m trying a pair on and I walk out of my changing room so I can get a better look at myself in the full length mirror at the end of the room, another person is trying the same pair on?  What if they look over and smile at me and say I’ve got great taste?  I don’t know if I’d be able to hold in my breakfast anymore.  Really, I dislike these pants that much.  Then, what if my best friend tells me she loves harem pants.  I don’t know what I’d do.

Saying that, I used to hate the legging look.  I wasn’t quite as disgusted of those as I am nappy-pants.  Then, I saw so many girls wearing them.  And they looked good.  Not good as in yummy, but good as in ‘I want to look like that, too.’  But that’s different.  Leggings, worn under a long shirt, or a dress (of course, I’ll get to that in a second) can look amazing.  Worn with heals, the legs are elongated and the girl’s figure is shown off to advantage.  I’m still plucking up the courage to give this look a try. I fear by the time I get around to it, I’ll be looking unfashionable, as everybody’s walking around harem-ing it up.  (God forbid.)

I think you need changing

But, the legging look, you still have to be careful.  Yes, I was reading the online gossip news the other day, I admit, and I saw a picture of Ruth Lorenzo snapped and posted online.  Who, you ask?  Ah, she’s that girl from the X-factor.  Spanish.  Wooed Simon Cowell.  Yeah, that one.  Anyways, she was sporting the wet legging look.  Let’s just say I think the look could have (would have?) looked better, if instead of a short t-shirt, she’d have worn a longer top over the leggings.

There’s even a picture of her as she’s walking away from the stalking photographers where she’s covering up her bottom with her large handbag, as though even she’s aware perhaps it’s not the greatest look.  I’m not being intentionally nasty.  It’s just a point I’d like to make.  I don’t think, if and when I get round to buying a pair of leggings, I’d be walking out with a short t-shirt.  I’ve already a little bit planned what I’d wear with them. I’ve got a lovely long purple dress-top to wear over the top.  And my purple high heels.  At least Ruth got the heels part right.  That’s one point to her.

Didn’t she use to be a singer?

I just hope that I don’t mellow to harem pants as I did to leggings.  Woe forbid that day.  And I’m going to have to figure out what to say when I go out and one of my friends is wearing these nappy-pants.  Or perhaps I’m just missing something.  I wear glasses already, so I can’t really believe that I am.  I don’t know.  I’ll just have to wait for that day…

I was looking through a trashy, generic celebrity magazine, and went straight to the pap shots of these gods and goddesses amongst mortals. It’s my favourite bit. I want to look at Britney Spear’s nose with a bogey near it, Patrick Dempsey’s sweat patches and Amy Winehouse looking, well, like she does.

What’s she drinking? Will she fall over? Let’s hope so!

We sit at work all these hours infront of the computer screen (if we’re lucky) and love to gush over these celebrities with their annoying lives looking perfect, and we so like it even better when they fall off the pedestal we put under them. It makes our day! But, secretly want to be involved in their lives.

So: Hands up. Who wants to have a celebrity friend? Not a fake one, like I have sitting next to me when I type (they’ve just bought an Audi R8, they’re going to Dubai next week and a première tonight – I’m just having a chilli dog and will be playing Mario Galaxy till the wee hours). Who doesn’t want to be living their lives through someone else, well, better.

Tonight I’ll also be tweeting, not like a bird you understand, the madness, loneliness and credit crunch hasn’t gotten to me that much yet, I’ll be on Twitter….

Twitter isn’t just for nerds. But it helps.

Before you say, “Woah! Loser! I don’t wanna know what you’ve just did” Fellow celebrity follower, let me explain. They’re all on there. You can virtually smell the teak that is Stephen Fry, hear Ashton and Seth quip, follow (along with NBC) Stephen Colbert, Laugh with Britney and Beyonce Knowle’s sister and nod knowingly that Demi Moore is really quite cool.

Hell, I’ll even follow Greg Grunberg or Levar Burton (but not Will Wheaton I’m not that sad).

Nope. Won’t follow you Trek boy

You can also follow Jenna Haze and Stoya, but that’s another story.

Oh and I do follow them, I really, really, do. I tweet about my existence, and wait, eagerly for Demi or Christopher Walken to come online.  They tweet and I run up, jump to the computer and look for the @ button. I then reply to them in the most gushing, celeb praising way that I can possibly do. So for instance, they say, “Going out to Starbucks (I follow them as well), hope their Wi-Fi is working” I reply with something witty and interesting like, “Yeah. Me too.”

Why won’t they not talk to me?

I feel smug, happy and anxious for the next minute, hour, day and week, feverishly looking at my twitter page, refreshing it. F5, F5, F5 to see if they acknowledge my pitiful attempt to communicate with them. They never come back.

It’s sad but true, speak to me - speak to me!

I have other followers though, they are far down the pecking order. I reply to them, they come back to me instantly. It gives me no pleasure. They are not on a pedestal. I know that they work in customer support and have 32 fluffy pens on their desk and they like to drink soup on a Thursday.

This I know. I want Levar Burton to reply to me, acknowledge me as a friend. It is my right. I watched a Star Trek episode once. I gave him something, now give me something back.

One day it will happen. The A-listers won’t speak to me; I won’t get any interaction from mad Nick Nolte but will probably get an acknowledgement from someone who used to get Will Wheaton’s coffee.

One day it’ll be me

I will continue! If you are on Twitter, and a celebrity, drop me a mail and I will definitely gush over you at any given opportunity, in the vain hope that you’ll reply. If you’re not – don’t bother. Celebrities are all that count. But I dream of that day when I get a reply, or even *gasp* a direct message. Till then, I’ll keep tweeting and keep punning for that wonderful day to arrive.

Why not follow Catwalk on Twitter? It’s just getting going and will keep you up to date with all of our fashion and celebrity worship. And also general chat. And celeb stalking.