Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Couture Gone Wild

Ok folks, get ready! Tonight you will become part of the problem and the solution. I would like, nay I respectfully demand, that you watch American Idol and vote for Brandon Rogers tonight. Now, I'm not saying that you have to vote for him with your ears waxed shut, but if you vote for anyone but him I'm going to kill a kitten and then promise to only perform "it's a small world after all" for the rest of my career. I know that offer may backfire for some of you, and it may pique your interest to hear an artist who in metaphor is truly a one trick pony. Instead I say this: please watch American Idol and vote for Brandon Rogers!

Now that my begging is out of the way allow me to rant:

Last night whilst taking a Monday drive (it was a Holiday, so it felt like a Sunday drive) I noticed a particular company was advertising "Eye Couture". Something deep inside me snapped. I'm taking a stand against over-used terms and/or phrases that are under-cooked in their contextual import.

Item number one: Couture
Couture refers to fashion, and these days it implies a certain amount of fanciness. This word has become ubiquitous (yes, I'm flexing a little) in the past few years. I'm on board with referring to clothing items that cost more than one hundred bucks as couture (except tuxedos, those should be at least $150). Sweat pants? That may be a stretch. Spectacles? I'm drawing the line.

Wikipedia says this:
In France, the term haute couture is protected by law and is defined by the Chambre de commerce et d’industrie de Paris based in Paris, France. Their rules state that only "those companies mentioned on the list drawn up each year by a commission domiciled at the Ministry for Industry are entitled to avail themselves" of the label haute couture. The criteria to which a fashion house must adhere in order to be categorized haute couture were laid down in 1945 and updated in 1992.

Now we're talkin'! We need to have a commission domiciled up in this piece to determine who is stepping over the line. While we're at it we need a genius commission as well. I propose that you have to be dead for 100 years to be considered a genius. I'm using my better judgment and deleting my Anna Nicole zinger.

Even a dude with cauliflower ear is now considered couture:



Item number two: Gravitas
I auditioned for a movie a few months ago. I have little to no acting experience: when I was seven I did a television commercial where I played an abused child. Dakota Fanning-esque as that may sound, it took two or three takes and I got to eat cold Kentucky Fried Chicken, so I was not scarred (or so I keep telling myself when I wake up screaming obscenities in the middle of the night). It was for my mom's work. She's a psychologist, and use to run "The Hudson Center for Brief Therapy" back in the day. My role was this: reach across the table and knock over a glass of milk while reaching for a slice of wonder bread. The guy who was playing my dad was then to stand up and act as if he were going to whack me. I laughed through the first take and improvised. I used my arm to shield my face. This was meant to look like I was parrying the blow, when in actuality I was covering up the giggles.

Fast forward to 2006, after a gig at the Hotel Cafe I was asked to audition to play a singer-songwriter in a movie. The character's name was Zack, he was 28 years old, and fed up with the music industry. Now, maybe my midnight screaming occasionally includes phrases like "damn you to fiery hell, Trauma Records!!", but I don't consider myself to be especially jaded. Other than that, my name IS actually Zack, my driver's license says I'm 28, and don't let my basketball obsession fool you, I am a singer-songwriter. To make a long story short, one can infer that since I'm typing this blog and not practice my lines, I am still a musician, and haven't yet pulled a J-Lo. It turns out that they needed someone with more acting experience than knocking over a few glasses of milk.

In the process of this audition, one of the involved parties used the term "gravitas" to imply depth. This was the first time I can remember this word being used. Then it was the second time, the third, and the fourth time (all by one person). This is one of those "inconceivable" moments: "you keep using this word, I do not think it means what you think it means". Wikipedia calls gravitas a "loanword", a word directly taken into one language from another with little or no translation. Back in the day gravitas meant dignity, seriousness, and duty. I think the growing usage of gravitas implies dooty.

Item number three: It is what it is
I deem this phrase McZen. I've heard close friends use it and I will not call you by name here. Consider this a gently-public intervention. Saying "it is what it is" does not imply mysticism or depth. I suggest instead we go back to "que sera sera", at least then we get to hum a tune.

For example:
Friend one: "Hey dude, where's that forty bucks you owe me?"
Friend two: "It is what it is."
Friend one then beats friend two, to the tune of $40 cash.

A more than acceptable exception: The Sheers have a great song called "It Is What It Is"

I am all for the popular lexicon expanding. I have no problem using the words "website" and "internet", although "internets" is dicey. The issue I have is with new words being used as marketing tools to bamboozle the general public. I'm sure countless stand-ups have done routines on this, and not to Mencia my way to the top of the blogosphere, but used cars are now referred to as pre-owned. Is this supposed to leave you with a slightly fresher feeling after having paid $8000 for a Chevy that smells like a kitty litter box?

Here's a phrase that one is likely to hear on a reality tv show that I think should earn you a free fast ball to the nether-regions:
"I think my couture has gravitas, but it is what is."

Finally, I'd like to take a stand against myspace spam (a message from a total stranger) that refers to one as "sweety". I'm considering starting a profile for a lemon, or Margaret Thatcher, or dirt, or castor oil and see if people still leave comments like "Hi sweety, stop by and listen to my new song", so that I could reply and say "I'm a lemon! Don't call me sweety!"

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