Gwyneth, Goop and words that begin with V

THE WAY THINGS ARE

Colette NiReamonn Ioannidou

‘A golden what sold for $15,000?’ my neighbour a couple of streets removed gasped; it was the first time she had heard the word ‘dildo’. Number two, eyes popping, also gasped, ‘She steams her… vagina? Why can’t she just shower like everybody else?’ And… ‘Aren’t they scared of an electric shock with those vibrators?’

Three women on the journey towards fossilisation, were chatting on a corner bemoaning our ageing skin and comparing our faces to figs dried on a Lefkara roof when I had jokingly remarked we could all do with a dollop of Goop. Was it, one enquired, some sort of Botox? I thus launched into the Gwyneth Paltrow phenomenon. Neither are internet connected, nor it seems, celebrity conscious so, I had to draw a verbal map of what Goop was and what it offered for people with money to throw away.

‘That much for a pair of baby shoes? Ridiculous!’ One hissed. ‘Ahh, but they were Laboutin shoes with red soles,’ says I. Then I had to explain to people like me who buy from Corso, Klitos or Shoebox, what the name implied. One selling point I quoted, was ‘What we (the Goopers) think is worthy of your time and your wallet.’

Another is they want to crack open taboos. My ultra-religious chat companion snorted that anyone who gave huge sums of money for kinky vibrators needed their heads cracked open. Miss GP had come into my mind unexpectedly that day when a Cypriot chap I ran into, the spitting image of one of my Irish cousins, had brought back a conversation I had with, let’s call him Sean, about the actor and her mother, Blythe (ET) Danner.

By the time most lads his age felt proud of a few holidays abroad, Sean, still in his late teens, had circled the world more than once on merchant ships. When we met up or he wrote long letters about his adventures or misadventures, he was always witty in a dry way, always had stories to tell of far-off places and interesting characters. Later, he became involved with volunteer groups working with orphans in Romania after the fall of Ceausescu and he and his mother raised money to buy supplies for children in need in miserable institutions.

Although he had lived in New York for quarter of a century, he packed up to go home when his mother was ill with cancer; they were always very close. When she died, with his share of the inheritance she had left her three sons, he wanted to create a small business. His first thought was Cyprus. As a younger man he had worked here in holiday resorts, loved the country and the wide variety of fruit and veg at hand to indulge his vegetarian needs. So, he came to check out what he might invest in here.

The big problem then with buying a home and a business, was the year – 2013. We did the round of possibilities but it would have been completely idiotic to invest cash at that risky time. So, he headed off for far flung places (he always liked the exotic) to explore what they had to offer.

Back to Miss Paltrow and my chat with the girls. The lady, I explained, as well as being an actor, is an astute businesswoman who has made a great deal of cash out of producing and selling expensive candles that ‘smell like my vagina’. My neighbour’s nostrils twitched, why would anyone want to sit inhaling that aroma? Quite a lot of people apparently, as that title, plus vibrators with odd names and variations on that theme, go like hot cakes. I also explained the controversy surrounding the ‘jade eggs’ affair; I was having fun. More gasps of disbelief. ‘All these Hollywood types are crazy. Wasn’t she making enough money on her films?’ It’s no secret that ageing actresses (I use the feminine deliberately as it doesn’t seem to apply to men) have to fight very hard for decent roles. Hollywood doesn’t tolerate wrinkles at all well.

So, I figured Miss P is a clever lass who has created an alternative source of income for one thing, and for another, maybe just acting wasn’t enough, perhaps she had another kind of creative flair she wanted to let loose and, in spite of people poking fun at her, laughs all the way to the bank.

In New York, Sean worked as an interior decorator and he had done the homes of several famous names. Ralph Lauren, he said, was a nice guy to work for. And then he told us of working for Gwyneth and meeting her famous mom. ‘They’d sit at the table chatting with you while you had coffee or a snack. No nose in the air thing, no egos, just two very nice, down-to-earth ladies. ‘That from a guy who has met more people than many of us ever will, is a compliment indeed. ‘Nice!’ Ultra-religious said, ‘How can a woman who sells all those awful things be …nice?’ The other said, ‘Yes, and what kind of mother feels all right with a daughter that sells… her personal… smell?’ I could have said they are probably quite content with who they are. Can we say the same?