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Newport Beach is going to the dogs
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Worth more than your kids
On a recent trip down to Southern California, I realized with annoyance that I had forgotten to pack clothes for myself and was forced to do a little shopping in Newport Beach. Of course, I did manage to pack clothes, bathing suits, sunblock, hats, and activities for both kids, AND also pack toys, food, and bedding for my dogs, who stayed at our favorite doggie-hostel in Bothell. Isn't that the fate of moms.. to take care of everything and everyone and find ourselves at the bottom of the priority list??? That alone justifies a little retail therapy in my book!
You would think that after living in SoCal for 25 years of my early life, I would be inured to the facial expressions of the plastic-surgery elite, but....NO. No, it's still unsettling to come face-to-face with a 75-yr old woman with a perma-startled expression frozen into place, smooth as a baby's bottom, shiny as a fresh scar. You know that every day she looks in the mirror, congratulating herself on her pristine complexion, yet failing to recognize the sheer monstrosity of the whole picture. It's not FREAKY if everyone's doing it, right?
And no time-reversal would be complete in Forever-Young-Newport-Beach, without a bony, emaciated figure, draped in the latest couture, the look carefully punctuated with an occasional hip, casually placed piece from a store like Anthropologie, which confirms that coveted youthful status. It's the designer clothes that scream, "I'm rich!" mixed with the quirky piece from Moth that adds, "But I'm young at heart and young at face!"
Don't get me wrong here...I fully support the notion of plastic surgery and have always planned a FULL FACE AND BODY LIFT at age 45, because I've been advised to do it early BEFORE my jowls jiggle and my boobs hit my waistband. However, now that 45 is just around the corner, perhaps 55 is a better plan....
Anyway, I digress. The whole point here is to highlight that in this land of plastic-surgery-gone-wild, the rich take this obsession to a new level with their dogs. Old people with too much money, and not enough compassion to donate it to others, have to find SOMETHING to spend it on...expensive dogs with even more expensive grooming needs. This particular dog, shown above, was positively glorious, with perfectly coiffed hair that put the owner's balding pate to shame. I can only imagine the upkeep required for a dog that is chauffered around Fashion Island in its own doggie-stroller.
I felt compelled to pet this magnificent little creature, and couldn't help but notice that his teeth were a dazzling shade of white. Bleached perhaps?? It reminded me of an article I read a while back on cosmetic surgery for dogs, which seems crazy until you consider that for many people, dogs are an extension of their egos. And if your ego is tied into being rich and flawless, well then.....
Better than looking like Jocelyn Wildenstein, I guess.
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