Originally posted by LLaura+Jul 26th, 2003 - 2:04 pm--><div class='quotetop'>QUOTE(LLaura @ Jul 26th, 2003 - 2:04 pm)</div><div class='quotemain'> <!--QuoteBegin-Purr@Jul 26th, 2003 - 9:15 am She's always saying she loves Gwen Stefanie's style. She mentions her in every other interview...
Ah ok maybe that's what she's trying to do then. Makes sense [/b][/quote]
Does anyone else think Gwen could have rocked that outfit in the first pic? She would ditch the hat, bowtie, gum wad, and Payless pumps of course....
hen, in 1998, Britney Spears -- in thigh-high stockings that stretched vainly toward a wee pleated skirt -- twist-tied her schoolgirl blouse up over her sports bra and sang ''. . . Baby One More Time'' on MTV, the sun had truly set on the Decade of the Diva (Madonna, Mariah, Whitney et al.). Since then, the cradle has been rockin'. The tabloids christened the young ones ''pop tarts'' after those beloved, additive-rich sweet nothings one slides furtively into the toaster whilst the righteous choke down spelt muffins. In fact, Pop-Tarts, which turn a venerable 40 next year, are among America's most entrenched guilty pleasures: in 2001, the number of Tarts sold (2 billion) would have reached halfway to the moon. Psssst: 40 percent were consumed by adults. Metaphorically, our Top 40 tarts are consistent with the pastry originals: they're better when they're a little flaky, their visuals are candy-colored, the lite lyrics melt in your mouth. The music's market-researched beat has all the torque and spring of a four-slice Toastmaster. And what tasty fun, assigning an imagined flavor to each of today's ruling Billboard princesses.
Shakira? Cafe con leche.
Christina Aguilera? Devil's-food cake. No -- make that Manwich.
Avril Lavigne? Wheat grass.
Britney Spears? Cherry vanilla. Which is to say sweet, with a decided tang. This is how Britney Spears comes across on one sunny spring day at Battery Studios, a Manhattan recording space. Taking a break from work on her fourth album, to be released in the fall, she is friendly and polite -- and prone to using a smattering of naughty words, hereafter replaced by (oops!). The orange T-shirt is tight, the jeans cut low, the white-and-blue cowboy boots battered by loving overuse. She pulls one off to show how it flops. ''People say to me, 'Brit, you need to get some new (oops!) boots!'''
I had been warned of a sea change in this formerly G-rated Mouseketeer by my 11-year-old daughter, once a huge Britney fan, though ''way back in the third grade.'' She cited Spears's 2001 MTV Video Music Awards telecast outfit -- not much bigger than Eve's (the biblical one), and accessorized with a writhing live snake. She asked me, with a tinge of pity: ''Mom, didn't you know? Britney's gone bad!''
Maybe so, but it must be -- as the Shangri-Las once sang of a hot boyfriend with dirty fingernails -- ''good-bad, but not evil.'' At 21, having sold 52 million albums and, on her last tour, more than $40 million worth of tickets, Britney Spears is justifiably feeling her oats. She was only 2 in 1983 when MTV's iconic First Tart, Cyndi Lauper, tossed down the marabou'ed gauntlet with ''Girls Just Want to Have Fun.'' Surely, the notion of fun itself has changed since Lauper's harmless video pajama party -- just check out the girls gone wild on MTV's spring-break extravaganzas.
Spears is still decidedly upright by such standards. And since she grosses an estimated $40 million to $50 million a year, she has learned to overcome any guilt about the indulgences she grants herself. But it took a while for this child of a contractor and a second-grade teacher from tiny Kentwood, La., to adjust. ''When I first started and I wanted to buy a dress, if it was over $50, I would wait two weeks before I would make the decision to go back. Seriously.''
Now, she says, ''I give myself lots of treats.'' We'll just run through her guilty girl pleasures, teen-magazine style.
Foods: ''Cookie-dough ice cream. Hot dogs with cheese, mayo, mustard, pickles.'' And because she's a Southern girl: ''Chicken and dumplings.'' Films: ''Sappy movies. Girl stuff like 'French Kiss' and 'Notting Hill,' 'Steel Magnolias,' 'Beaches.' I travel alone a lot, and I don't like scary.'' Music: ''Everything. Old 80's stuff. Old Aerosmith stuff. Robin Thicke is really cool. I loved the Neptunes for a while, but I'm over their stuff now.'' Miscellany: ''Dressing my dog'' (a reference to Mickey, a Pomeranian). ''There's a shop in L.A. with these really cute cashmere sweaters.''
Though she may not like spooky movies, she is not afraid to look deep, deep into her own wardrobe trunks and scare herself half to death. She cannot bull-leeve she wore some outfits in public. But will she tamp down the vamp? ''Nah.'' And to all the red-carpet arbiters she offers a resolute je ne regrette rien. Mam'selle explains: ''I was thinking the other day about an outfit I wore to the Billboard Awards, like three years ago. It was orange hot pants and fish-net stockings and this orange bra and this orange (oops!) hat, and it was all tie-dyed too. It was obnoxious! I got so much bad press for it.'' She laughs, rattling the collection of silver chains and charms around a well-tanned throat (''laying out,'' or tanning, is another no-no she enjoys). ''I look at that outfit right now,'' she continues, ''and if I was to put it on now, I'd think: What the (oops!) am I wearing? But at that moment, I was feeling very feisty and very orange and very out there. And very like, I believe! And it worked.''
For a young woman with an 11th-grade education but an M.F.A. in media madness, Spears is circumspect about all the scrutiny and those ghastly anti-Britney Web sites. ''People around me are like, 'Did you hear what they wrote?' I'm like, 'Yeah.' Honestly, the biggest thing about celebrity is that you call out for judgment. You just put yourself out there. Not everybody's going to like what you wear.'' She laughs and adds that visuals are ''the funnest part'' of her job. And since she's been working, hard, since about the second grade, she has a lot of fun to catch up on. Later tonight, she turns up at a Chelsea club called Lot 61, and before she can blink her pretty eyes, both city tabloids will report her drinking (''downing Malibu Sea Breezes,'' according to one) and dancing on banquettes. Responding to complaints from an allegedly displaced patron, Spears's publicist will harrumph: ''Britney would never enter a club without knowing her table is ready.''
What can we conclude except that these days, there is always a darned warning label on the most innocuous of pleasures? Even Kellogg's has moved to indemnify its Tarts in the wake of an infamous Internet ''flaming toaster'' experiment, cautioning, ''Due to possible risk of fire, never leave your toasting appliance or microwave unattended.''
Which is to say, overheat any pop tart, and you're playing with fire.