Another week, another bombshell from Gwyneth Paltrow, the Marmite of all Hollywood celebrities.
After revealing that she takes the kids on The Tube and likes to go to ‘grubby gigs’, Gwynnie now wants us to believe that living in Blighty has turned her into a ‘booze hound’.
“Having lived in England for so long, I have become a real booze hound. All you guys drink so much, me included. A glass of red wine is excellent for you, but I tend to not stop there,” she’s claimed to have told a national newspaper.
However, I can hardly see her falling out of a branch of Wetherspoons with her Agent Provocateurs’ round her head anytime soon.
She also proffered that she likes the odd smoke. But only one a week. Not exactly Kate Moss, is she?
But I am being unfair, I think it’s time we gave Gwynnie a break because I actually think she’s a good egg – an organic, free range one, obvs.
Here is a woman who really just wants to be liked. And who can blame her? Star Magazine declared her the most hated celebrity on the planet. Really? Surely this level of vitriol should be saved for no-marks like Kerry Katona or cast members of Towie?
Gwynnie, on the other hand, actually has quantifiable talents, who else could have played the ‘head in the box’ in Seven so deftly? There was also her unforgettable Oscar acceptance speech. Kleenex’s profits soared that month.
The problem is she’s beautiful, thin and rich and makes no bones about how she stays that way, and while she could be perceived as being a tad smug if I had her dating back catalogue (Ben Affleck, Luke Wilson, Brad Pitt, anyone?) I think I’d be waving my Agent Provocateurs’ in the air too.
When she paired up with Coldplay’s Chris Martin she gave Mister Average everywhere a hope they might actually marry a movie star. You’ve got to love her for that.
Their wholesome, quinoa-ingesting image is played out through the pages of Gwyneth’s much-vilified website www.Goop.com
I can see it’s easy to dislike a woman whose life is so blooming glossy, but isn’t a touch of escapism nice? Please allow me to dream of a day when my biggest concern is removing that splinter I’ve aquired from an avocado stone, or which shade of Tods to wear when picking up the kids from school.
I’d rather aspire to have her life than that of someone like trashy Katie Price – someone who lauds herself as a good role model to young women.
When all is said and done what could save Gwynnie from the haters is a few more girlie pals.
Let’s look at the evidence. She used to be pals with Madonna although that ended acrimoniously, probably when Madge offered her a hug in THOSE arms.
Sometimes she’s seen in matching sweatbands to personal training rottweiler Tracy Anderson, but then you can’t really bond over a greasy kebab with someone you’ve just done the downward dog with.
And then there’s her latest BFF, Beyonce although I’d say that’s one of those coupley friendships sparked by a ChrisMartin/Jay-Z bromance.
I can’t see Gwynnie and Bey sharing mudpacks and Milk Tray. Beyonce’s probably just glad they don’t have to spend any more time with that awful Kardashian woman anymore.
So here’s the thing. Gwynnie, let’s be friends. We can drink gogi berry smoothies and face the haters together...
It’d be a Gwyn Gwyn situation.