Ever since Cannes started, I know that you have refused to acknowledge its existence until the festival’s official mascot and flaming torch of chicken cutlets charisma opened up the ceremony by lighting up the red carpet. Well, now that Phoebe Price is there flexing the life out of her hormone-free chicken cutlets cheeks for the international media, we can say that Cannes has officially begun.
Almost every time I post pictures of PP delivering serious poses at Cannes, some not-knowing bitch has to email me and ask, “Why is she there?” BLASPHEMY! That’s like asking, “Why does it feel good when I touch my feel good place?” or “Why am I most happiest when I stick my tongue in a tub of Duncan Hines frosting?” The answer is obvious. If there was no PP, there would be no Cannes. If there was no Cannes, there would be no PP. The two go together like a horse and marriage, or whatever the lyrics to the Married with Children theme song are. Oh, and PP’s also there every year, because France outsources all their seat filling duties to America.
And if you needed more proof that PP is so delicately special that she can naturally spin silk out of her precious oyster, here you go.