I was watching a clip of Dr. Phil last week (it was for research, you judgers!) and it featured some self-professed “spoiled princesses” who, even nearing 30, were funded by their wealthy parents in their quest to get their PhD's in neuroscience and then spend five years in a poor African country tending the ill and conducting research on how to stop certain pandemics. Oh yes, I joke! I do! The Princesses were simply out to find one thing: a man. A husband, and a rich one at that. “No nine-to-fiver driving a Honda, thank you very much,” said one young blonde woman. After all, she’s a Princess! She even wore a tiara with two carats worth of diamonds (actually, she has a whole collection, as I know you do too) and trotted about the city, in all her spray tanned glory, looking for a little fame, a little fortune, and a husband with a not-so-little bank account.
Dr. Phil sent Princess# 1 to work for a day with infamous public relations professional Kelly Cutrone and the whole thing was a pretty standard set-up. Princess walked in with cleavage from here to China, wearing a tiara (I was upset she had no little dog in a little dog purse. That's a Princess fail, right there) and failed miserably at her temporary job. Cutrone was most outraged that she couldn’t fold clothes. Over and over she exclaimed “but she couldn’t fold clothes!” no matter what the topic. I was more worried that Princess# 1 spoke like an 8-year-old, has no discernible intelligence and practically glowed neon with her orange tan. But if not being able to fold clothes is a huge problem to the hard hitting and ultra sensible Cutrone, then perhaps it’s me who’s missing the point.
Once that segment was over, on marched another blonde, big-chested woman who was also no stranger to the makeup chair. Hello, Princess #2! Sitting with her mother, they both defended her lifestyle - again, completely funded by her rich Mom - that focused on her fabulous career; a couple of photos in Playboy (I’m assuming the internet version of it), a spot on The Millionaire Matchmaker (you saw that coming) and TWO mentions in Page 6 of the New York Post. Two, not one!