Mariah Carey Connection

TV presenter Alexa Chung has written a column in the current issue of Company Magazine about her uneasy relationship with fame. In it she describes her recent close encounter with Mariah Carey:

As I diligently shopped my way around Selfridges the other week  (it was imperative to find a bikini), I found myself swiftly caught up in the rush of a ground swell.

The movement of the crowds was accompanied by gasps. Somewhat startled and annoyed (I had just clammily managed to located the right department), I peered over the balcony with countless others to be met by an astonishing sight: Mariah Carey was slowly escalating her way up to the floor below me.

She was flanked by bodyguards and blinkered by the largest sunglasses I have ever had the happy opportunity to observe. As well as being immediately excited by the experience, I was also amazed by what I saw.

People were literally screaming, screeching and squealing her name, impaling themselves on blacony bars in order to catch a glimpse of a superstar. I was amazed- not just because I found myself compelled to join in, but by the discovery that people still give a shit about Mariah Carey.

It was then I realised I have become blase about fame. If Britain’s Got Talent us anything to go by (and it probably isn’t), everybody is in pursuit of it these days. And why wouldn’t they be? Fame means money, success, talent, respect, adoration, endless partying and access to everything.

Or does it? The modern system of the stratospheric rise to stardom now renders at least  two of that list redundany. The plethora of options open to anyone who want to ‘make it’ these days is astonishing. It seems there are more hours of reality-TV shows being filmed than there are real hours of the day.

Time and time again, people are being made famous for being famous. Talent is not longer a necessary part of the equation (unless you’re Mariah, where E always= MC2).

Maybe it’s just me who had become disillusioned by celebrity. I do recall once getting excited about seeing Tamzin Outhwaite in Accessorize, and Dale Winton in M&S (perhaps less so on that occasion), but, ever since somebody stopped to ask for my photo, the walls that guarded my perception of fame came crashing down. I was on TV for a good year before people started to recognize me. Arguably, I am more famous for my boyfriend and my clothes, and neither of these is guaranteed to last. Should I then panic about when it all may come to an end?

I’m a cultural cousin of the Big Brother contestant: TV brought me to the attention of gossip magazines. And will I miss it when it’s over? i can’t say my experience of being speculated about has been an entirely happy one. As a fairly private person, I find being written about scary. When people reveal the tawdry details of a vile food-poisoning episode for the entertainment of others, it’s enough to make me sick- again.

I could easily get carried away with the idea that anyone cares about my business. I wonder if that’s why Mariah Carey reportedly demands to have lethargic Laborador puppies for company in dressing rooms- maybe she has lost touch with reality.

I probably didn’t help, by scrambling to glimpse her in a department store that sweltering day… Next time, I shall turn a blind eyee. I wonder how long it will be before we become bored of fame? Perhaps The Emancipation of Mimi is overdue.

Source: Company Magazine | Text: Mariah Connection UK