Kirsty Blake Knox: Brides, you do not need a 'viral' wedding
Published 11/09/2016 | 02:30
I know you're truly, madly, deeply head-over-heels in love. And your relationship is so fairy-tale dreamy it would have caused the late great Nora Ephron to sit up and pay attention.
I'm sure yours is a love that will be immortalised in the romantic canons; on a par with Lancelot and Queen Guinevere, or at least comparable to Chris de Burgh's devotion to blouson leather jackets.
But your wedding proposal does not need to go viral. Neither does your first dance. Or the groom's speech. Or the bridal party's late night dance routine to Sir Mix-A-Lot.
At first these videos were novel but I think we can all agree they've had their day in the sun. Each week, another elaborate video does the rounds. We've seen chat show proposals, sky diving proposals, Crossfit proposals, and Rose of Tralee proposals.
Worse yet is the long-form proposal pieced together over several months. So cloyingly sweet it makes you want to go home and stick your head in a bucket of gin.
Then there are the wedding dance-offs to Beyonce/Vanilla Ice/Richie Kavanagh. Spoiler: no one finds these funny. I know everyone laughed at the wedding but that's because they were drunk. Very, very drunk.
I love an old-fashioned romance but this intense viral one-upmanship grates on me. It's dated, self-congratulatory and clickbait-y.
Do we really need Facebook 'likes' to copper-fasten and validate our love? I long for a return to a simpler time, when a proposal involved uttering those simple but special words - "You're wha?!"
Trooper Panti breaks a leg but show must go on
As if we needed more proof that Dr Panti Bliss is an old school stage trooper. The gender discombobulist broke her foot this week while playing a very intense game of Snatch the Bacon. And no, that's not a euphemism - shame on you.
Panti was in the middle of rehearsals for Tiger Dublin Fringe show RIOT when the accident occurred.
"We were playing a game and I went over my ankle. But the show will go on," she said.
Unfortunately, the injury means Panti will now have to perform in a rather clunky orthopaedic boot rather than her trademark heels.
"It's not that glamorous," she said. "But we're going to try and 'Pantify it' and throw lots of glitter at the situation."
Produced by Thisispopbaby, RIOT will play at the Spiegeltent in Merrion Square and will be filled with jigs, acrobatics and circus skits. Panti will lip sync extracts from Coronation Street and 1969 film The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Meanwhile, dance duo The Lords of Strut will perform flash raves.
Sound the red-carpet death knell: glamour gone but ruckus on horizon
Sound the red carpet klaxon. The 'naked dress' - favoured by the likes of Rihanna and JLo - is no longer naked enough. It has been replaced by the crotch-bearing floor-length gown.
This week Italian models Giulia Salemi and Dayane Mello sauntered up the red carpet at the Venice Film Festival in dresses so revealing they made Liz Hurley's 1994 safety pin frock look like something a Quaker might wear.
No one knew exactly what these women were doing on the red carpet but one thing was certain: they had no knickers on.
Later in the week, there were more beautiful women in more revealing outfits on more red carpets. Those crimson carpets have become ubiquitous and, as a result, they've lost some of their lustre.
"Its just models in borrowed dresses and bored actors," designer Peter O'Brien noted. "They possess all the glamour of a wet Tuesday afternoon in a Little Chef on the M41." While I agree that the red carpet has lost its glamour, I think the sense of drama has increased.
That's because the carpet has now split into two rival camps. In one corner, you have the very earnest and somewhat jaded "creatives", individuals who are contractually obliged to be there, but are on a mission to prove just how tedious and vacuous they find the whole rigmarole.
Last week, two members of this camp, Cillian Murphy and Jamie Dornan, attended the Dublin premiere of Anthropoid. Before they arrived journalists were told to treat "the talent" with respect. There were to be "no shout-outs and no selfies". But all the preliminary Dos and Don'ts were redundant when the two men darted past the crowds and into the cinema.
In the other camp you have the "desperate upstagers", a sort of adult equivalent of the Billy Barrys - without the charm. These people have modest talent but want everyone to notice them.
Last year, I saw one Irish TV presenter walk the red carpet at a black tie event four times to ensure their picture was taken.
I'm pretty sure Giulia and Dayane would fall into this camp.
So far, these two sides have managed to peacefully co-exist, but tensions are rising. Eventually they will clash and have some sort of spectacular red carpet showdown. And we will be there, with our buttered popcorn, ready to watch the action unfold.