But you’ve no doubt noticed that already. She’s back in the limelight again, thanks to Sweeney Todd (which is a musical? – I don’t know why I think that’s so strange…).
Bonham-Carter has always taking a fair old pounding from the press over her ‘unusual’ fashion choices — to the extent that the words ‘homeless bag lady’ can trigger an automatic association with her name. The British public have a bit of a liking for her, though — partly because we have a soft spot for genuine eccentrics but also because, in a world of ‘plastics’, she stands out as don’t-give-a-damn real. Plus, she can actually act, which — although not a compulsory skill for someone in her profession — must come in handy as the years go by.
Anyway, the Daily Mail have just gone and made a great big fuss about the fact that she was sporting a moustache to the premier of Sweeney Todd. Not that her whiskers were all that noticeable from far off — but the zoom did show that she could give Johnny Depp some competition when it comes to upper-lip foliage.
I’m not going to post that photograph here.
No. I’m not going to encourage that type of thing.
Oh, OK then.
If you’re really desperate to get the full-sized verision go here.
In her defence I would say this (though there’s no excuse for the teeth):
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at least she had the decency to bleach it (though that may have made things worse — in terms of a false sense of security brought about by viewing the results in low-light situations)
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she’s just had a baby — so upper-lip waxing may figure pretty low in her list of priorities
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no-one over the age of around ten can get away with that kind of close-up without some imperfections showing up
I know that last point is a fact, because I bought a x12 magnification mirror last week (to do my eyebrows) and the thing has had a devastating effect on anyone who’s looked at it. I’m thinking of taking it out and burying it in a deep dark hole somewhere because not only does it make everyone feel bad about themselves — revealing previously invisible open pores, acne scars, moustaches (on girls), spider veins, dangling nose hairs (mostly, but not exclusively, on men) — but the bloody thing is virtually indestructible and mysteriously finds its way back out of waste bins.
Yesterday, a girl I know — who is twenty-two and very beautiful — insisted on looking in the mirror of doom.
“I’m REPULSIVE — HIDEOUS!” she cried. “And I have a moustache! Why didn’t any of you tell me I have a moustache? I look like… like…”
“Hitler?” suggested someone, helpfully.
I don’t know about you but I think that if any woman was going to get away with a tache — it would be Bonham-Carter.
