Dieting to death is fashionable, of course. It almost makes sense, in a world where poor people are now the fat ones, having virtually no access to healthy food and being at the mercy of McDonald’s & Co.
Perhaps the fashion industry could canonize Ana Carolina Reston – make her a martyr for the “cause.” Tom Ford could style her dead, emaciated body with white geisha-like body make-up (something like his tasteless… er, I mean, ultra-stylish photo spread in “Vanity Fair,” for example). Karl Lagerfeld could stop fanning himself long enough to make a diamond-encrusted coffin lid for the occasion, and Calvin Klein could parade pubescent girls with white lilies and see-through veils at the wake.
There are many super-talented individuals (I count the Lagerfelds and the Kleins among them, obviously) who work in the fashion industry. There are people who are capable of elevating a basic handbag to the status of an art-form. But this glorious expanse of the imagination is tempered by economic barbarism and a baffling, visceral hatred for the human body. It’s a pity.