So, it's over for them too. Christie and Peter. Yes, yes, I watched it with a pathetic interest. And you know you watched it too - the very public and nasty divorce of Christie Brinkley and Peter Cook.
I wish I could sniff with superiority that I'm above such unseemly airing of dirty laundry, but, alas, I've got a trash-tv-jones and every now and then I have to feed it. It was just too easy and besides, I've never claimed to be the Dalai Lama.
Most of us remember Christie from the 80's in her heyday modeling years. She was an all American beauty. I especially loved her when at 37, she posed on the cover of a magazine and said, "that's it, I'm not doing this anymore, I'm sick of sucking my stomach in."
Many applauded, and I did too, as the Cover Girl admitted that yes, she too was human. After all, she had given birth to a child and no matter what Hollywood celebrities try to tell you, unless you buy yourself a surrogate, your body is going to show the wear and tear. So, Christie cottoned up and owned up to a few imperfections and we loved her for it.
Throughout the years, she's had her ups and downs. But, for some reason, I, like so many others I'm sure, still held this stupid belief that somehow her life and existence was better than mine. It had to be. I mean, look at that face, that smile, that body, and well, her money. Yeah, mega-watt Christie Brinkley had it all. And to make it worse, the older she got, the more beautiful she became. I wanted to hate her for it, but couldn't. I applauded instead.
So, during this legal spectacle, I watched her parade daily into the court room with her impeccable looks, her impeccable style and impeccable clothes. Her high-voltage smile was always plastered in the just the right place and she managed to make even a divorce look glamorous.
But, I couldn't help but think that no matter how big, perfect and beautiful that smile was, here was a woman who has had a pretty rough life. I mean, the only difference between Christie Brinkley and some of the white trash I've known from the Deep South is her financial status. Really. That's it. Ok, maybe her body and blond hair, but that's about it.
Look, she's been married and divorced (or widowed) 4 times. She has three kids with three different fathers. And, at this juncture, she appears to have some serious relationship issues. Not exactly, the model life you know?
Now, this is not about judgment. I've been down the aisle more than once myself and I have children with two different fathers........so, no rocks are coming from this side of the playing field I assure you. It's just an observation that once again, no matter how things may appear; you never know what's on the other side of door number three.
Sure, the faade is attractive. She's the "Uptown Girl" after all; beautiful, blonde, and ambitious with a high powered career, high profile romances and well, a house in the Hamptons...........it's got to be better than my life, right? Wrong.
Over five painful days.and yes, it was painful, we learned the lurid and tawdry details of Christie Brinkley's seemingly perfect life. The well crafted, carefully constructed, perfect exterior imploded from the inside out. Internet pornography, adultery, bad parenting, step-father issues and a psychiatrist telling us that Peter Cook has an insatiable ego, brought down yet another poorly constructed mansion of a life.
So there you have it. Good looks, good jobs and lots-o-money once again fails to deliver what we are all looking for - love, acceptance, belonging and meaning in life. Marketing strategies, sales pitches, brand names or even a house in the Hamptons won't cut it. Build your house on the wrong foundation and it won't take much for the winds and storms of life to blow it down.
I don't not wish Christie Brinkley ill, nor am I rejoicing in any of her failures, like I said, I have my own. It's just another lesson that no matter what color you paint the house, or how lovely you landscape it, it's the interior that makes it a home.
But hey, Christie, you're still a knock out.