Growing up I loved the TV show Full House. I tuned in to TGIF on ABC religiously every week, just waiting to hear those magical intro lyrics, "Everywhere you look, everywhere is a heart (a heart), a hand to hold on to..." My mom taped every episode for me so I could re-live the Tanner Family's G-rated dramatics throughout the week. I even had the Michelle doll that wore '90s-fabulous black denim jeans and a pink fringe shirt and repeated her famous lines when you squeezed her stomach: "You got it, dude" and "No way, Jose!"
So imagine my sheer childish exuberance when, during one Friday-night viewing session, I saw Miss Fabulous Michelle Tanner pushing her doll in the same pink baby buggy I had in my play room! We like the same things, so we could be friends in real life! I thought. So went the reasoning of my 5-year old self.
You might think I've outgrown this cheap sense of popular self-validation by now. That I'd react with less enthusiasm to seeing something I own being used by someone on TV.
Nope. I've transitioned from toys to clothing - and it's only happened a few times - but whenever I've seen a piece of my clothing worn by someone on TV, I react like a stage mom seeing her fabric-daughter on the small screen for the first time.
My enthusiasm is a second cousin of the bigger sociological phenomenon of "Celebrity," which helps us understand why we're so fascinated with the Kardashian divorce drama and why no one can find a non-Kindle version of the Steve Jobs biography. The evolutionary perspective on celebrity is an interesting one, as explained in this BBC article from 2003:
Evolutionary biologists say it is natural for humans to look up to individuals who receive attention because they have succeeded in a society. In prehistoric times, this would have meant respecting good hunters and elders. But as hunting is not now an essential skill and longevity is more widely achievable, these qualities are no longer revered. Instead, we look to celebrities, whose fame and fortune we want to emulate.So color me tickled when someone famous is emulating my fashion preferences. Somewhere in the deep evolutionary parts of my brain, my fierce cavewoman self is patting herself on her oh-so-stylish back.
Most recently (and least impressively), I saw a favorite dress of mine in a - prepare yourself - Christmastime Nissan commercial. Even before I could question the influx of holiday car commercials by shouting to Ian, "Who buys someone a car for Christmas?!" I spied this happy girl in my Jessica Simpson-brand houndstooth dress.
See it? There's my black-and-white dress paired with a trim candy apple cardigan and a cute side pony. Why thank you, Nissan and your commercial wardrobe consultants, for the fashion tip!
But the Most Wonderful Sale of the Year Dress is such a D-List wardrobe celebrity. Permit me to stretch my bragging muscles a little bit to present the Brangelina of my closet: my finger-less gloves.
My mother-in-law brought me back a candy-striped woolen scarf and matching pair gloves, both made in Scotland, from her trip to England in 2009. Soft, warm, and a quick way to brighten up my black winter coat, I loved my souvenir gift
But someone famous made me love them even more. Now my fluffy sweaters, sequined tops, and 4-inch heels look wide-eyed in amazement at my fingerless gloves because a movie-stah wore them in a blockbuster last July:
|Hermione & Harry in HP & the Deathly Hallows, Pt. 1|
Scene after winter scene in Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows, Part 1, Emma Watson as Hermione Granger was wearing my made-in-the-UK fingerless gloves. And I couldn't help but think, We like the same things, so we could be friends in real life!