Mariah Carey’s PAPER magazine cover basically features a CGI rendering of her.
File this one under: Setting unrealistic standards of beauty for women to fulfill a need for vanity.
PAPER magazine just did a series of covers for its Vegas special edition. It stars Mariah Carey, J.Lo (She don’t know her), Ricky Martin (still gay, still alive), and The Backstreet Boys.
You might be wondering how PAPER magazine can sleep at night without featuring the patron saints of Vegas in CELINE DION and pretender to the Vegas throne, Britney Spears. Well the answer is simple, PAPER spent their entire budget for the year just photoshopping Mariah Carey before throwing the images in the trash and calling Industrial Light & Magic to create this image of Mariah which, shall we say, is stretching the realms of reality into a place known as ‘Sweet Sweet Fantasy’.
Mariah looks great, and I mean that with love because they’ve shopped her so hard that her mouth has moved to one-half of her face and is telling the other half “I don’t know her!”
Of course, Mariah can’t resist doing a photo shoot without getting the girls out. I feel like this is endemic of the ‘I’m getting old so I might as well enjoy it while I can’ phase Meemz has been going through since around 2005. And fuck it! Yes! If I could afford a child army to photoshop the living shit out of me in every picture ever taken, I would!
Except Mimi forgets that you can’t photoshop press images and Instagrams, so that pretty much is fucking annoying AF for her whenever she has to do things like ‘appear in public’ or ‘go on stage and perform for a living’. Rude!
The thing about images of Mariah performing when she’s not bumping into the week like she needs a nap is that she actually looks great. Elegant, classy and hourglass, she’s notably larger than the PAPER images, and her face shape and overall appearance are significantly different, but she looks like, you know, a human person.
So why does she keep photoshopping the living actual shit out of all of her photoshoots? It’s like in the Butterfly Kingdom she lives in she forgets that the many thousands of fans paying to see her, err, support Lionel Ritchie every night (fire: your manager) have eyeballs that can see real truths and sometimes, those truths say “I don’t spend my entire life vomming up down a sink to appease a record producer and guess what I’ve earned it because of my fucking voice you twats”.
But, that being said, if you’re going toe-to-toe with J.Lo for a cover, I kind of get it.