On a recent episode of The View, Lady Gaga was asked about the death of Amy Winehouse, saying that “the world can learn a lesson from the tragedy, in that it should be ‘kinder to the superstar’. Gaga went on to say that that level of fame, which she experiences, is a lonely life.”
Lady Gaga is awesome; there’s no doubt about that.
She’s fearless in her fashion, her music is guaranteed to get me on the dancefloor, she works tirelessly for gay rights, and recently wowed Sydney (Melbourne next, please!).
But imagine what it’s like to be her for a second.
She’s crafted such an image that it is now impossible for her to make a coffee run, work out, go shopping, or even relax, without portraying her Gaga image. What about Stefani?
While it’d be amazing to meet the people that Gaga does, travel the world like Gaga does, and “use your popularity for a good cause”, as Cher Horowitz puts it in Clueless, like Gaga does, I wouldn’t want to sacrifice who I am underneath it all.
But it must be so tiring to always have the Gaga switch on. To be in full makeup, garish costumes, and setting pianos on fire. Evidently it is, if her collapsing on stage is anything to go by.
Personally, if I was a celebrity, I would want to be either a mediocre one who can go about their business getting papped at the supermarket every once in a while, a Cate Blanchette-esque one, who is as good at their craft as Gaga is, but manages to fly under the radar (except for that whole “Carbon Cate” shemozzle), or even one like Kim Kardashian who, like Gaga, probably doesn’t get a whole lot of genuine downtime, where she can spend a day in bed with no makeup on watching cheesy movies without the reality TV cameras and just be the real Kim, but who has crafted a whole career around her personality and her family.
I have to wonder, is there a price to being Lady Gaga? Ten, twenty, thirty years from now, will she still be around like Madonna, Stevie Nicks or Cyndi Lauper? Or will the sheer intensity she operates at now burn her out within five?
I love Lady Gaga, and I genuinely hope she’ll be around for another fifty years, but I certainly don’t envy her.
Image via Jezebel.