Excessive consumerism, pretentiously driven, overstated faux designer labels, are things I despise and try to avoid. However, when all these elements amalgamate, I find myself discovering the worse best kept secret, the latest venue where the ugly go to be beautiful. Experience show these settings are as fake as the OZcar inquiry. Posers with caked on make up, botox filled expressions and keys that gains them entry into the family nest egg, seem to be happy to be ravished with compliments they buy and not earn. But can money really buy happiness? And more so, does money really buy beauty?
In an age where looks should not matter rather the personality, what happens when you can no longer afford to buy your compliments or buy the “lifestyle”? You have an epiphany. You never had a personality in the first place. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an angry rejected individual. I embrace the aristocrat lifestyle, people and conversation, I enjoy highbrow fun times and I like nice stuff. What I’m opposed to are dim-witted boorish beings who raucously invade my space. I totally get the whole, it takes different strokes to make the world go round concept and I seriously do in the initial stages respect all humble beings but when I’m presented with the rude and the ignorant and laughing it off no longer gives me any sense of pleasure, I find myself needing to avoid the tasteless and embrace the tasteful.