I can keep my silence no longer though God knows I have tried. Marc Jacobs, a man who could have been invented by my mother for me to marry, has, I think it is fair to say, finally jumped the shark on the old sanity ship. And frankly, I blame our shared religion.
Back all of ten months ago I interviewed Jacobs in New York and it was a decidedly pleasant experience all round. He had recently embraced a drugs free, sober life and he was full of beans - friendly, chatty, glowing with health. Fast forward to the Louis Vuitton show in Paris this October and Jacobs was looking freakishly small, his face was tight with agitation and his response to the audience's annoyance at having been kept waiting over an hour for the show to start (after the two hour delay of his own line's show in New York three weeks earlier) was to stick out his tongue.
Since then, his behaviour hasn't exactly been sterling. He has died his hair electric blue and stuck diamond earrings straight off the Corrie sent in his ear; he seems to have lit upon nudity as a great photograph pose, and now, according to vogue.com, he fancies himself to be a bit of a future Kelly Osbourne: "I'm really into my life right now," Jacobs recently announced to the press. "Everything, all aspects of my life. All the drama, the intrigue, the sex, the romance, the work. I'm a shameless human being. I love The Osbournes and stuff like that - nothing is crazier than real life. The whole thing's sort of egotistical, I suppose. But I do find myself entertaining."
Isn't it lovely to see a man have such natural confidence in himself, and totally not like encountering some coked up freak in the loo who insists on telling you how amazing he is, like, totally, right here, right now, and wait, you just gotta hear this one last story proving the point, not that I'm insinuating anything here IN THE SLIGHTEST.
Now, many have pointed the finger of blame at Jacobs' current boyfriend, Jason, a man who so loves Jacobs he had his name tattooed on his arm. The fact that he had Jacobs' name tattooed in the same font the latter uses on his fashion branding should not, of course, be taken as a sign that Jason loves Jacobs the brand more than Jacobs the man. Obviously, I couldn't possibly comment about Jason's relevancy here but I will say that we Jews do have a weakness for the bad boyfriend, as discussed previously in regards to Amy Winehouse.
It comes from a lifetime of maternal nagging about what constitutes the perfect man leading to an inevitable rebellion. It is Jacobs' misfortune that he is in the eyes of many a Jewish girl's mother, the perfect boyfriend himself (high earning, dark, knows how to knock out a handbag) so I guess it's not surprising he had to go so far the other way. It's just a shame he had to have this he had to do this north of 40.
Marc, come back to the fold. Unlike Amy, your persona is not about tragedy and self-inflicted pain: it's about cute little dresses and having chatty Sunday brunches with Sophia at Pastis. The masses won't tolerate your tongue sticking for long. Come back and I promise my mother will stop trying to marry us off. But she will - and quite rightly - try to feed you up with some chala bread
