Is Gwyneth Paltrow Wrong About Everything? How the Famous Sell Us Elixirs of Health, Beauty & Happiness

226 Pages·2015·1.22 MB·English

by  Timothy Caulfield

For the superstars in my life:
Adam, Alison, Jane, Michael, and Joanne
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION Idol Dreams
Part I The Illusion of Celebrity Authority
CHAPTER 1 Dieting, Gwyneth, and My Cleanse
CHAPTER 2 Beauty Tips from Beautiful People
CHAPTER 3 Pamela Anderson’s Breasts
CHAPTER 4 Wired Behavior
CHAPTER 5 Beauty and/or Health?
Part II The Illusion That You Too Can Be a Celebrity
CHAPTER 6 Dreams of Fame and Fortune
CHAPTER 7 So You Want to Be a Star?
CHAPTER 8 Celebrity Dreams and Cognitive Biases
CHAPTER 9 Simon Cowell and Social Pressure
CHAPTER 10 Luck and Ten Thousand Hours
CHAPTER 11 A Lonely, Health-Destroying Grind?
CONCLUSION The Dream Crusher?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
SELECTED REFERENCES AND SOURCES
INDEX
INTRODUCTION
Idol Dreams
“Damn, I shouldn’t have slept so long” is my first thought when I see the size
of the line, which is already the width of a boxcar and the length of an aircraft
carrier. It is early in the morning and cold. Many of my line mates have blankets
and a diminishing food supply. It is clear they have been here for a very long
time.
The people in the line come in three categories: teenager, young adult, and
parent. The last category is, by far, the smallest. And its members are invariably
attached to someone from the first category. This makes me an oddball. As far as
I can tell, I am the only solo middle-aged man. I try to look confident and
purposeful, as if I am here for some specific and important reason, but I am sure
I look mostly awkward and out of place.
“What are you doing here?” a young woman asks me through a big friendly
smile. She is dressed in an outfit that gives her the appearance of someone who
just walked off the set of a Mötley Crüe video, circa 1987.
I want to say, “Making a complete fool of myself,” especially since I am in
serious need of caffeine and do not feel particularly chatty. Instead I offer an
ambiguous “I’m not really sure.”
“What are your goals?” I ask the woman, who goes by the not-uncool moniker
Shakespeare Sunday.
“I want to make it. And this seems a good place to start,” she replies.
“American Idol needs a rock star!” All the people within earshot of this last
comment raise their arms and let out a loud “Wooooooo!” It is as if this group of
strangers has rehearsed the moment, which ends in high-fives and fist bumps.
Ms. Sunday hands me her smartphone and invites me to listen to a recording
of her work, which is much better than I expected—though I am not sure what I
expected. Before the song finishes, Ms. Sunday (I just can’t bring myself to call
her Shakespeare) notices a commotion down the line and abruptly ends our
exchange. She pushes toward the edge of the line, grooming herself as she goes.
Ms. Sunday has spotted a TV camera.
A man with a microphone is interviewing people in the line, asking them
about their hometown, what makes them special, and, of course, if they are the
next winner of American Idol. As the camera crew tracks the lineup, a wave of
preening and posing moves with it. The criteria for selection as an interviewee
seem straightforward: those selected are attractive and/or have something
distinctive about their appearance. My new friend, Ms. Sunday, is among the
chosen. She satisfies both requirements but mostly the latter.
I am not (at least currently) a singer, and I do not have any plans to become
one. My voice is terrible. Fortunately, my future does not depend on it. I am a
university professor who has spent the last twenty years researching and writing
about the health policy implications of things like genetics, stem cell research,
obesity, health care reform, and personalized medicine. So what the heck am I
doing at an American Idol audition? Well, I hope to audition! And why do I want
to audition? Because I want to learn more about, and get as close as I can to, the
phenomenon of celebrity. And nothing represents celebrity culture better than
American Idol.
During the past few decades, celebrity culture’s grip on our society has
tightened. This is a truism. I don’t need to convince anyone that we live in the
age of celebrity. Yes, celebrities have been part of the cultural landscape for
most of human history. From Alexander the Great to Lord Byron, we have
always been fascinated with the famous. But never has celebrity culture played
such a dominant role in so many aspects of our lives. It has a measurable
influence on individual health-care decisions, the things we do to stay healthy,
how we view ourselves physically, the material goods we want to possess, and
our future career aspirations. Whether we like it or not, celebrity culture has a
profound impact on our world, framing how we think about important issues and
even influencing how we view our place in the universe. But this is not a book
about celebrity culture—there are many interesting and thoughtful treatises on
the nature and causes of our obsession with famous people. Rather, in this book I
analyze and debunk the messages and promises—implicit and explicit—that
flow from the celebrity realm, be they about health, diet, beauty, our ambitions,
or what is supposed to make us happy.
Many writers have proposed definitions of celebrity culture. For this book I
am interested in our preoccupation with, and the value we attach to, celebrity
lifestyles and to celebrities themselves—whether in the realm of movies, music,
or sports—and all the industries and social structures that create and sustain
them. Celebrity culture is often blamed for dumbing down our social discourse,
but less has been said about how it is a source of misinformation. Indeed,
celebrity culture has emerged as one of the most significant and influential
sources of pseudoscientific blather. It fills our cultural landscape with notions
ranging from those that are patently absurd and widely mocked (such as Simon
Cowell’s hiring of a psychic “house healer” to exorcise his home of “negative
energy”) to those that gain substantial social traction and market appeal. The
popularity of juicing, cleanses, detox diets, weird exercise routines, and a
boatload of beauty and antiaging products and practices can be linked directly to
celebrity endorsements. Think, for example, of Kate Perry’s and Hilary Swank’s
advocacy of vitamins, Gwyneth Paltrow’s enthusiasm for colon cleanses and a
gluten-free diet, Jennifer Aniston’s ballyhooed belief in water cures, or just
about every celebrity’s advice on how to lose weight.
Looking at these health and well-being issues through the lens of celebrity
culture may seem frivolous. But we should not underestimate the impact
celebrities can have on our preferences and attitudes—which is, of course, why
they are so frequently paid millions of dollars by advertisers to move product.
Specific examples abound. Angelina Jolie’s revelation that genetic testing
precipitated her decision to have a preventative mastectomy resulted in an
immediate increase in demand for both genetic testing and preventative
mastectomies. Similarly, and perhaps more troubling, images of celebrities
smoking—in film, on TV shows, and in magazines—are linked to an increase in
cigarette consumption. The celebrity trend for using beautifying and
rejuvenating vitamin intravenous therapy has reportedly caused a shortage of
critical medical supplies. Ill-informed celebrity statements about the alleged
risks associated with vaccines (most notably by Jenny McCarthy) have adversely
impacted public dialog about the value of vaccines. And, most disturbingly,
reports of celebrity suicides are associated with an increase in suicide in the
general public. I could go on and on and on.
Some have suggested that humans are evolutionarily wired to follow and
perhaps be influenced by people they look up to. Many species, including other
primates, carefully watch dominant individuals within their group. Evolutionary
psychologists have speculated that this tendency evolved as part of a package of
innate predispositions that allow humans to learn from successful role models.
The process happens unconsciously. While this propensity may have helped
prehistoric hunter-gatherers to acquire useful bits of knowledge and skill, in the
context of modern society, following Gwyneth Paltrow’s health advice or
coveting Kim Kardashian’s life provides little benefit. In fact, in the pages that
follow I will argue that this propensity has emerged as one of our society’s most
pernicious forces, contributing to, among other things, poor health decisions,
wasted investments in useless beauty and fitness products, a decreased
understanding of how science works, and increased dissatisfaction with our
appearance and perhaps our lives.
Of course, the impact of celebrity culture reaches well beyond the areas of
health and beauty. Increasingly, people see becoming a celebrity or obtaining a
celebrity lifestyle as a reasonable and obtainable life goal. Even President
Barack Obama has commented on the trend. In a 2013 interview he suggested
that the constant exposure to “the lifestyles of the rich and famous” has caused
“a shift in culture.” In the past “kids weren’t monitoring every day what Kim
Kardashian was wearing, or where Kanye West was going on vacation, and
thinking that somehow that was the mark of success,” Obama said. These
comments are both unusual (how many times has the leader of the free world
taken time to speculate about the social impact of a reality TV star?) and correct.
Ample evidence supports Obama’s observations. Survey research from the
United States has revealed that becoming famous is now viewed as a key part of
the American dream. And numerous studies have found that becoming a
celebrity—or gaining success in a celebrity-oriented profession such as singing,
acting, or sports—has emerged as the primary aspiration of a substantial segment
of the population. Social media have played a significant role in this
development, by bringing celebrities closer to the public and multiplying the
opportunities to make social comparisons. The celebrity life seems real,
awesome, and accessible. One study, published in 2013, found that social media
interactions with celebrities, particularly through Twitter, allow fans to feel that
they have an “authentic” relationship with their idols. Fans have the sense,
rightly or not, that the interactions are real, which in turn leads them to become
more “involved and invested in celebrities’ lives.”
The central goal of this book is simple: to get to the truth about the claims that
flow from celebrity culture, be they about the diets that purport to make us thin,
the antiaging products that will keep us forever youthful and wrinkle free, or the
actions that we are told we should take, such as auditioning for American Idol, to
propel us into the realm of celebrity. I seek to separate sense from nonsense and
provide usable and evidence-informed advice about the strategies that actually
work and those that are a complete waste of money and time. I will look at
everything from vitamins, organic food, and gluten-free diets to the odds of
making it big as an actor, musician, or professional athlete. I will also explore
the impact of celebrity culture on things like body image, the use of cosmetic
surgery, and unhealthy behaviors, such as binge dieting and sunbathing. I also
will examine what it is like to be a celebrity and the social and biological forces
that seem to compel many of us to “reach for the stars.”
To this end I have deployed a range of traditional scholarly methods,
including analyzing the best available scientific data and interviewing renowned
academic and clinical experts. But I also tried to gain an understanding of
various aspects of the celebrity universe and its social impact by interacting with
actors, musicians, and even porn stars. To put my research in context, I tried
celebrity-recommended beauty routines and diets. I signed on with a modeling
agency and went to a modeling competition in New York. And I have tried to
immerse myself in the celebrity-oriented media. For example, I followed
celebrity Twitter feeds, read gossip blogs, and forced myself to read every issue
—cover to cover—of the world’s most popular celebrity-oriented publication,
People, for an entire year. The book is organized into two sections, one focusing
on the illusion of celebrity authority and one on the illusion that one can become
a celebrity. These sections explore the cumulative effect of three celebrity-driven
illusions: that celebrity culture embodies a real, achievable, and desirable ideal
of health and beauty and confers on celebrities the authority to impart health and
beauty advice; that the status of celebrity can (and should) be achieved by
anyone who dreams big, works hard, or believes in him or herself with sufficient
intensity (an illusion I witnessed firsthand at the American Idol audition and one
that is central to the role celebrity culture plays in our lives); and, finally, that
celebrities lead the happiest, most desirable, most fulfilled lives.
A FEW WORDS about tone: I do not mean to mock those who enjoy popular culture
or follow celebrities. On the contrary, I love celebrity culture. I always have.
Indeed, my interest in celebrity culture is one reason I wanted to write this book.
When I play Trivial Pursuit, the only questions I can reliably answer are the ones
from the entertainment category. Each award season, without any effort, I
somehow become aware of all the nominees for the Golden Globes, the
Grammys, and, of course, the Oscars. I even have a vague knowledge of the
celebrities in the running for a People’s Choice Award. It’s as if the names of the
nominees are implanted in my brain as I sleep. I probably know more about
Pamela Anderson and Gwyneth Paltrow than about Albert Einstein, Albert
Camus, or, for that matter, Albert, my neighbor. So if you love and follow
celebrity culture, this book is for you.
I am also not going to try to deny or minimize the power of celebrity. Being
near the famous does create an odd, unquantifiable electricity. I felt it myself
when, in order to get into the swing of things, I attended the Hollywood premiere
of the movie This Is the End, starring James Franco, Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, and
Emma Watson. I don’t mean that I was invited to attend the premiere or to
interview the stars. No, I stood outside the theater with hordes of screaming fans
waiting for the stars to be delivered in big black limos. At first I tried to fool
myself into believing that I was there as an academic, an impartial observer. I
was Jane Goodall in the Hollywood jungle. But as each limo pulled up I got
progressively more into it, standing on my tippy toes to see who would emerge
from the vehicle.
“Is that James?” I asked no one in particular. It was not. I sighed along with
my neighbors. “Oh! It’s nobody!”
We all hoped the stars would come to our corner of the line. So we would yell
things like “Emma! Emma! Over here!” It didn’t work. Pencil-thin Emma
Watson waved in our direction but did not stop. But normal-size Seth Rogen did.
Indeed, I swear that Seth and I had a moment, locking eyes in a kind of friendly,
if silent, exchange.
“Seth seems like a nice guy,” I said to the guy standing next to me. How the
hell would I know that? And why did I want to tell a stranger?
So it’s true: celebrities have the capacity to cast a spell on us all. Celebrity
culture really is, as the research tells us, a tremendously powerful force. Given
this reality, this book is also relevant for those of you who hate celebrity culture
—and I know you are out there because I heard from many of you while I was
writing it. If you’re looking for further reason to be skeptical of celebrity culture
and its impact on our society, the pages that follow will provide you with an
abundance of science-informed ammunition.
# # #
SHOWS LIKE AMERICAN IDOL leverage this fascination with celebrities and our
desire to reap the rewards of celebrity status. Indeed, the promise of becoming a
celebrity is the unspoken reward for appearing on the show—hence my decision
to start my journey at an American Idol audition.
The massive line of wannabes moves much faster than I expect. American
Idol is an efficient machine, processing participants as a factory farm processes
chickens. Today is only the registration phase. If I satisfy some basic criteria, I
will get a wristband that allows me to audition tomorrow morning.
The rules state that I must be an American citizen. Check. A person must not
have done well on a previous American Idol season. Check. I must not have a
current recording contract. Check. I must not have a close personal or family
relationship with the company that owns American Idol. Check. And I must be
between the ages of fifteen and twenty-eight. OK, this last requirement could be
a challenge.
Still, I have taken this audition seriously. If given the opportunity, I intend to
sing “Lost in the Supermarket,” by the Clash. In the past few weeks I have
rehearsed a slightly jazzy version of the song in front of my kids, who invariably
give me severe Simon Cowell–ish feedback: “Terrible.” “Out of tune.” “What
key was that?” But despite their harsh reviews, I feel that I’ve prepared a unique