Sometimes I forget Heather Graham exists. It's not her fault, really; just that ever since her face was plastered all over Los Angeles for three months promoting that ABC sitcom of hers that then got cancelled practically in the middle of its premiere episode, I haven't come across her in anything except for a cable screening of the second Austin Powers flick -- at which point I paused to pay homage to her giant hairpieces, and then changed the channel to something that didn't involve so many hideous poo jokes.
This was not the way I wanted to be reminded of her:
In The Spy Who Shagged Me, Heather Graham looked about 22 even though she was at least 28 at the time. Now she's got a bit of that stiff Kidman sheen to her skin, like she's been Botoxing herself to the hilt and now it hurts to smile. But maybe that tight, awkward grin is because she just caught a glimpse of herself and realizes how unflattering and kinda musty-looking this dress is. It reminds me of the way people use the phrase "for the mature woman" with a certain inflection that secretly means "super freakin' old lady who smells like denture paste." There is so much going on, and none of it good.
Not to mention, after all that busyness everywhere else, the bottom of the damn thing just hangs there as if someone got too bored to do anything with it. So it's just along for the ride, praying it gets caught in a car door and torn away to freedom. I feel its pain.
This was not the way I wanted to be reminded of her:
In The Spy Who Shagged Me, Heather Graham looked about 22 even though she was at least 28 at the time. Now she's got a bit of that stiff Kidman sheen to her skin, like she's been Botoxing herself to the hilt and now it hurts to smile. But maybe that tight, awkward grin is because she just caught a glimpse of herself and realizes how unflattering and kinda musty-looking this dress is. It reminds me of the way people use the phrase "for the mature woman" with a certain inflection that secretly means "super freakin' old lady who smells like denture paste." There is so much going on, and none of it good.
Not to mention, after all that busyness everywhere else, the bottom of the damn thing just hangs there as if someone got too bored to do anything with it. So it's just along for the ride, praying it gets caught in a car door and torn away to freedom. I feel its pain.
