Hello, across the pond

Stuffed with (surprisingly good) Camembert (from France) and (appallingly bad) red wine (from California, thank god), thanks to the practically empty flight, I arrived in London! And smack dab in the middle of a sparkling Harrods in the airport. After picking out new flats and a pair of sunglasses, I regained my bleary-eyed (from the makeup I forgot to take off on the plane) senses and instead purchased Hello! It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a young woman in a country for two hours must be entirely up to date on said country’s gossip. Whilst reading, I was comparing the British Hello to its American sorority sisters, like OK! and In Touch that’d I just read. Despite it’s subjects having posher accents, the British and American magazines are equally trashy. Yet the British magazines tell a sensational story about a celebrity, not just a paragraph or a sentence catch-up of what everysinglepersoninHollywood is doing/eating/wearing at all times. I doubt that there are more celebrities in the US, but we are clearly so preoccupied that we only allow each celebrity a line. Like the French comedy skit Bref, British Hello! talks and talks and talks about every single detail of this one celebrity’s marriage, when en bref, they just got married. Obviously, I read the entire magazine cover to cover.