For me, it began at the BRITs. 'Jesus, Jessie J, talk about Do It And Get Booed! That lilac lippy is making you look like you were birthed by Michael Jackson and Donatella Versace after they had a hateshag! You look about a thousand million years old! Like you go around looking for street art on pavements to lick! And I’m not sure about that body suit, either. You look a bit like Jill Masterson in Goldfinger, and she died from being shiny and sexy. That’s no example to set to the kids. How very dare you turn up and go and celebrate your industry and have your picture taken, when I, at home in my boyfriend’s stained H&M hoodie, have to look at you?'
About six seconds after I had loosely formulated the thought I was aware of the imaginary gaze of Cate Blanchett on me. She zoomed from my slippers, all the way up to my guilty face and said 'Do you do that to the guys?' (She didn’t really do it to me, but she did it to an actual pap at the SAG awards). I had become a human version of the celebrity sidebar of shame.
We are all turning into terrible people. Mindless consumers of pap shots, we sit slack jawed, scrolling through Instagram, casually casting aspersions on any high profile woman who has the audacity to wear clothes. Award season is exacerbating the problem. And increasingly, the celebrities themselves are picking up on how dreadful we are, and calling us out on it. I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t sure about her purple pout - and shortly after the BRITs, Jessie tweeted 'The lip didn’t work. Get over it. I have.' She’s a hugely talented working woman worth millions of pounds, so why should her make up choices make up a whole morning’s worth of headlines? What’s wrong with us?
The red carpet statement look that really got me thinking was Angelina Jolie’s tuxedo. Tuxes are hotter than Hansel right now, but I didn’t think Angelina’s outfit was all trend based. She wore what the boys wore, and people rarely care what the boys wear. She looked achingly stylish, but there was an element of 'Duh! I’m in a black jacket, black pants, white shirt. I’m a working mom. Nothing to see her, move along.'
Our red carpet frock fixation seems crazily dated. From Lupita Nyong’o to Haim, we have a surfeit of scarily talented women working in the entertainment industry right now. The award ceremonies are supposed to be a celebration of their terrific achievements. Why do we still act like the most shallow judges at Crufts, ready to give the biggest bow to whoever has the shiniest coat and the most obediently saggy tail?
As women, we tell each other that we’re all on the same team, but we behave as if our gender gives us an open invitation to critique each other’s bodies. LGBT writer Sean Bugg recently talkedabout the way some gay men discuss women - there’s an idea that if you don’t have a sexual interest in someone, no comment you can make about their bodies will be too creepy. They’re fair game. It’s not OK. And the same rules apply to all women, whether they’re straight or gay.
I’m not sure I can resist the siren song of Sunday’s red carpet round up - but I will try to be mindful about my bitchy comments, no matter how funny I think I’m being. The women being honoured have done some incredible work this year, and that makes for a much more interesting discussion than who looks thin and who looks fat.
Follow Daisy on Twitter @NotRollerGirl
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.