Everyone’s anteing up to play fame game
By Beth Teitell
Boston Herald Columnist
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Remember the good old days, when only celebrities were celebrities? When hairdressers and personal trainers and plumbers and dermatologists catered to the stars but weren’t stars themselves? Back then, these folks didn’t have ‘‘people” because they were someone’s ‘‘people.”
But at some point a few decades ago - celebratologists are still trying to pinpoint C-Lister Zero - the fame virus jumped from star to human, infecting civilians like Frederic Fekkai, Bobby Flay and Dr. Patricia Wexler.
For a while it seemed there was little to worry about. The infection was confined to the legitimately talented. At least until the new millennium inflamed the Hot Zone of reality TV and a ravenous media, and the I-Gotta-Be-Famous bug made the jump into the general population.
Andy Warhol once said that in the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes. Sweet, naive Andy. Fifteen minutes won’t even cover your first confession on ‘‘Oprah.”
So what’s wrong with everyone being famous? Doesn’t it mean we’ll have a population with better hair and smaller dogs?
Well, maybe, but there’s a catch. The more people who become stars, the worse the non-anointed among us feel. I was - once again - reminded of my place in the dreaded ‘‘audience” section of life the other day, when I heard about yet another open casting call coming to town. In case you’re unaware, tomorrow brings Jake, of Body by Jake, to Brookline, where he’ll be looking for America’s Next Fitness Star.
‘‘Are you going, Beth?” asked a colleague who knows I like to exercise.
‘‘I would, but I have plans,” I said. In the old days, I could have deluded myself into believing that the only thing holding me back from being America’s Next Fitness Star was the fact that I couldn’t just up and leave my life, with all its obligations, to try my luck in Hollywood. Back then, if you wanted to make it big, you had to pack your steamer trunk, stuff your savings into a handbag and board a train for Hollywood, kissing your loved ones goodbye at the station.
But now? If you’re not a star, it’s your own darn fault. Heck, Jake’s going to be less than a mile from my house tomorrow, and I’m still not going. So I guess I deserve to be a second-class citizen, seated at the table near the kitchen door, ignored at parties, dismissed by my hairdresser.
Although, now that I think of it, who is she to look down her nose? She doesn’t even have her own show.
Jake will be at CN8 Comcast Network Studios, 179 Amory St., Brookline, from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. tomorrow. Call888-392-3532.
