Hello friends, it's Jennifer Fabulous! I am so excited to have a regular feature on Amber's Mouthwash!
I've always felt like Amber's blog was the prettier and more charming sister to my own, so I'm really flattered she asked me to be part of her world!
For those of you who do not know me, I am a fashion-obsessed journalist who blogs about pop culture, my crazy life, films, and interesting celebrities.
My feature here will basically be a little taste of my blog every month. It's going to be completely random and utterly fabulous, I promise.
Anyway, enough about me! Let's get on to my first post.
Recently, Amber and I fell in love with a song, Video Games, by a recently discovered musician, Lana Del Rey.
I was really excited to learn more about Lana. Keyword: was.
You see, there used to be a time when movie studios would manufacture stars. Actors were given different names, allowed to spin their own backgrounds, and basically reinvent themselves as completely different people.
Unfortunately for Lana Del Rey, those days of 1950s Hollywood are over.
Mostly because technology, such as the internet, allows anyone to research your past. And Hollywood quickly realized the public isn't stupid.
I was so optimistic about Lana. I truly believed there was a new star on the horizon, destined to bring us into a delicious soul-infused music revolution.
After all, her latest single, Video Games, is hauntingly beautiful and heartbreakingly eery.
When I saw the video, I was a little confused by the cheesy montage of hipster youtube clips and I was creeped out by Lana's botched lip job, but I merely figured she was a little rough around the edges and let's face it, not everyone is perfect.
Plus, I discovered that Lana made the video herself, by looking up random youtube clips. It's not every day that a recording artist makes their own video, so I cut her some slack.
It wasn't until I researched for this post, that I realized the joke is on us.
Lana Del Rey isn't the hottest new discovery in the music industry. She was carefully crafted by a ruthless band of managers and music producers, who are hungry to Americanize and cash in on the British white female soul singer phenomenon.
First of all, her name isn't really Lana Del Rey. The 26-year-old has admitted the stage name was chosen for her by managers who thought her music would sell better if it was reminiscent of Hollywood glamour.
In some interviews, Lana claims she grew up in a trailer park in New Jersey, in other interviews she admits she went to boarding school.
In reality, Lana Del Rey is Lizzie Grant, the daughter of a wealthy internet mogul. You can read a cover story about him here, from four years ago.
Clearly, this is not a girl who grew up in a trailer park.
And then there is the plastic surgery. Those awful floppy Donald Duck lips that sway with the wind.
The reason her fake lips bother me is for two reasons. One, Lana was a pretty girl without them. And two, she claims she has NEVER HAD HER LIPS DONE.
Let's take a look, shall we?
Here is a photo of Lana and her father from a few years ago:
Here is a photo of Lana now:
The fact that in interviews she denies having her lips done is insulting to not only her fans, but to anyone with eyes.
I would have more respect for her if she had told interviewers that her lips got stung by a wasp every single day. Because even though she would be lying, at least we could all share a good laugh. But no, she chooses to take us all for fools instead.
When she's not busy getting her lips injected, Lana enjoys giving herself pretentious titles she hasn't earned yet. She calls herself the "gangsta Nancy Sinatra" and describes her own look as "Lolita in the 'hood." If you watched her music video earlier in this post, you are probably wondering why the hell she calls herself these things. I'm still baffled.
Her blatant lies and drastically altered image have already caused huge controversy amongst music bloggers. She has been labeled the "Frankenstein of Indie."
Some people may argue that her makeover is no different than the pop princesses you see every day, such as Lady Gaga or Britney Spears.
But there is a difference. Pop music is based on image. It is based on the unreality.
But Lana's soulful ghost-like crooning belongs to an entirely different category: real music.
How are we supposed to believe the pain in her voice and respect her as an artist, when she's more processed than a freshly-wrapped Twinkie?
I want to believe her. I want to respect her.
When I close my eyes and allow my ears to drink up her smoky melody, laced with beauty and dripping with sadness, a part of me does.
But then I open my eyes and I don't.
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