Oscar Is Safe....

Dear Certain Stylists,

I hope you're happy. I hope in your endless pursuit of everything looking just so, you're pleased you have killed imagination, true style and a knack for the quirky. Another Oscar ceremony, another round of mind numbingly dull shades of grey, black and navy abominations.

No one tries to be different at these things anymore and so everyone looks the same, not good, not bad, just an endless array of bland. Angelina Jolie in another black, sleeveless floor length number with hair that looks like it was styled by The Waltons. Kate Winslet chose to come dressed as my Nan. You have relegated them, and by them, I mean everyone in Hollywood, to the same style, same face, same shape fits all. Lets not rock the boat, heaven forbid someone should take a risk. No one got it horribly wrong, no one got it fantastically right, it was like one steaming big bowl of porridge, when what you really wanted was french toast and maple syrup. I wanted feathers, orange faces, white boobs and diamonds, I don't care about the credit crunch, Hollywood, sure as I'm breathing, doesn't care about the credit crunch, they're loaded, bring on the vulgarity, you're not fooling anyone! I want to be the peasant to your Marie Antoinette, I am outside the bakery looking at the cakes and all you had to offer was wholemeal loaf.

Oh I could weep for the days when Cher rocked up looking like she forgot her pony and Bjork wrapped herself in a swan, a swan I tell you, a swan. Crazy? Certainly. Forgotten? Never...

Yours sincerely,