I've never read any of the "Shopaholic" books. Truth is, I'm a bit of a book snob. Sure, I have no problems watching terrible television - i.e. "Confessions of a Teen Idol" or "Tool Academy" (ok, actually I've only seen that show once) but when it comes to literature, I try to have some scruples. (Clearly this was not the case when Parker sent me the Artie Lang biography "Too Fat To Fish" and I read the entire seedy memoir in less than 6 hours). But, in general I don't read a lot of "chick lit" - yet I have no qualms about seeing it on the big screen.
So, in a nutshell, here is my review for "Confessions of a Shopaholic" (broken down into easy to read bullet points)
- The main character Rebecca is played adorably by Isla Fisher. The fashions are fun. Everything else is completely unrealistic, for example:
- Rebecca has a closet full of Prada, Gucci, etc... yet she is only in debt $16k? This past weekend alone I had my hair colored and cut, bought a new handbag (COACH, not even Gucci,) a Wii fit and a pair of jeans to the tune of $1,000. In in my 20's I somehow managed the impossible by racking up close to $50k in debt by shopping at Ross, Target and Marshalls. (That's a lot of crappy tee shirts and Liz Claiborne sweaters).
- Rebecca, after downing a bottle of tequila, writes a phony article about how shoes relate to the economy (because we all can see the correlation there) and is hired by a Finance magazine a mere 24 hours later and is a national sensation within days. Meanwhile I have a college education, over 15 years of administrative and hotel management experience, and just lost out on a part time receptionist job at the community college down the street from my house. (I'm sure a 24 year old with a high school GED is probably answering the phones right now). Really though, I'm not bitter.
- Rebecca repeatedly shows up to work in fuchsia pencil skirts, strapless bustiers and gemstone necklaces the size of a small ship and no one even blinks an eye. Last time I wore a bustier to my corporate job, I received a verbal lashing and was told not to return until I had a Brooks Brother tweed blazer, ruffle shirt and a Playtex 12-hour bra. OK, this is a lie - I never did wear a bustier to work, but did once wear one of my Heather Locklear "Melrose Place" suits to my hotel job circa 1994 (the skirt fell just millimeters below my ass cheeks) and my female boss looked at me as if I had just arrived from a night of part time whoring.
- And, like every other movie in the world, in the end she gets the charming, English dude who is independently wealthy but shuns his rich family. So cliche.
- Given a do-over, I'd save the $10.50 admission and Netflix this flick.