Gwyneth Paltrow Is As Awful In Person As She Is As An Abstract Concept
I hate Gwyneth Paltrow. As far as I’m concerned she’s the aging bourgeois equivalent of Heidi and Spencer. Self-satisfied, detached from the world outside of her “clean” bubble, outrageously entitled, and overly confident in her planetary value. One could argue that she has a certain modicum of talent, which would instantly make the comparison to Heidi and Spencer inapt, but in reality she was born to a family of Hollywood royalty. I’m not saying she doesn’t bring anything to the acting table, I’m just saying her seat was reserved. And as far as her extra-curricular activities go, namely her lifestyle website built around her innate ability to give advice to people with equally vast amounts of wealth and leisure time on how to spend/use it, that’s just gross. To carry on with this comparison, Goop is to the internet as Spencer Pratt’s rap career is to rap: a blind, tone-deaf, ego-driven offense to the medium.
But all of this has gotten rather abstract. After Paltrow’s “triumphant” return to the big screen last year with Iron Man, her place in the media has mainly comprised self-made email newsletters about mid-century bathroom fixtures or tips from her over-priced private pilates instructor, and interviews with gossip magazines about said email newsletters. Perhaps Gwyneth just looks (really, really) bad on paper. Perhaps in person she is much more charming and tolerable.
She appeared on the Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien last night, for some reason? She wasn’t promoting anything. Just chillin’. I feel like when you call Gwyneth Paltrow up and ask her what she’s doing, she sets the flute of champagne down next to the marble-lined indoor lap pool and says “just chillin’.”
Anyway, this woman is fucking awful.
OK, well just right off the bat can we please stop the tape when Gwyneth first sits down?
Did she literally rub her legs in canola oil? (SPOILER ALERT: yes.)
I know that “cute” stories about kids is a staple of the terrible talk show guest, but for some reason Gwyneth’s stories are so much more unbearable.
“How cool is this house?”
Did you know that Gwyneth Paltrow doesn’t even know what she does for a living? This guy totally relates to what she’s saying:
Ugh! Right, Gwyneth. Your movies have always been much more arty. I’ll never forget the neohumanism of Shallow Hal, or the touching quotidian mundanity of Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. You’re like fucking Werner Herzog over there, if Werner Herzog was in DUETS!
I hope Conan enjoyed his free exercise tip care of Gwyneth’s friend and personal trainer, Tracy Anderson. Maybe he’d like to join the gym the two of them opened in Tribeca. It only costs “like $4,500 to join and then hundreds of dollars a month.” Because that’s a price that makes sense to pay for something like that.
Maybe next time her friends ask her WHERE TO GO IN BARCELONA she can dip into her Scrooge McDuck vault of gold and offer them 10 dollars to BUY A TRAVEL GUIDE and SPARE THE REST OF US.
The worst woman.