The World According to Paris (is a confusing, rotting candyland)

Here are my scribbles and notes about the new Oxygen show The World According to Paris which follows an overgrown Veruca Salt as she struggles with former fame and current animal hoarding.  

- Paris Hilton is almost exactly my age (she was born one day after me) so I feel keenly apt to judge her.  My judgement is, we're too old for this s@#$!

- The intro sequence is SO MANY PICTURES OF PARIS SO QUICKLY!  MY HEAD IS A HURT.

- Paris narrates a little intro about being all growed up and rethinking her priorities.  Her voice is not the high-pitched Muppet Babies one she used to use, or the low, jaded-Vegas-smokey one she used to alternate with the high one.  It's a medium one now.  Maybe she has growed up?

Purple is pink for olds?
[Image via www.thehollywoodgossip.com]

 Nah.  She only uses the medium voice for the narration.  The rest of the time it alternates between Khloe Kardashian feeling romantic and Kathleen Turner.

- The hyper speed photo collage ends with a twinkly noise that might be glass shattering or sparkly things sparkling.  Maybe this represents the old version of Paris breaking or the new version of Paris shining.   Or the old Paris rising like a tarted up phoenix out of glimmer ashes.  You decide, lovlies!

-Remember when Paris used to be the cutesy kind of bitch?  Now she's just a bitch.  "Honey, you just pour a drink" she snaps at her assistant like a real-life Karen Walker when the assistant points out she's not a trained barkeep.

-We are introduced to Paris' ragtag group of frienemylushes.  "Let's club!" they roar and they go dance all around.  One of them is Brooke Mueller.  It becomes clear that Paris isn't actually using this vehicle to establish credibility.  Brooke looks sad and distant, with a raspy voice and the all too knowing eyes of "no-nonsense" Roxy from The Misfits (Jem, anyone?).  When she calls Paris "baby" she sounds like OJ Berman.

Paris Hilton = real life Holly Golightly = manic-pixie-cautionary tale.
[© 1961 Paramount – Image courtesy mptvimages.com]

-At one point Paris leaves a room in a pink towel, claiming she's going to get dressed and comes back still in the towel.  She simply cannot be trusted to put on clothes.

-At an art museum, Paris starts acting like Cher Horowitz (we're too old for this s@#$, baby).  She's wearing a beret and whining about how her hipster assistant (I mean friend!  I mean photographer employee!  I mean friemployee!) has dragged her to a "weird" art show.  Her boyfriend, a hardened looking creature who she repeatedly insists (to us and herself) is extremely trustworthy calls to accuse her of a bunch of stuff.  Paris pulls a Lucy's In Trouble gag frown and proceeds to have a loud fight with him in the quiet gallery.  (Why do people always stare at me when I cause scenes?!)  Don't take your private fightcall in the art gallery, baby.  Step outside?  Sigh.

Cy:  I'm gonna go back to Vegas tonight.
Paris: Nooooouuuuuhhhhhh.

-Paris seems almost likable during one those annoying between-the-commercial mini-scenes that make you think the show's back on but it's not.  She receives a miniature horse (!) from a secret admirer or something and seems genuinely delighted.  She proclaims she'd like to name the horse Lady Coco Chanel.  For once in the whole episode her comic timing is effective and her zany descent into full-grown rich lady eccentricity seems like something she's control of and in on the joke about.

-Paris says a lot things she doesn't seem to realize are completely heartbreaking.  She doesn't seem equipped to navigate the emotional complexities of life.  She has the bitterness of someone jaded but not the hard earned realizations.  In the final moments of the episode she addresses the baby voice but only in the most shallow, toddler way, noting that she always uses it to get what she wants.  She's worried it might not always work for her but seems just convinced enough that it will.