When us regulars are at the airport, we’re usually wearing sweats (or pajama jeans if you’re upper middle class and want the world to know it), an oversized hoodie, an ugly t-shirt and a glamorous neck pillow necklace. And we’re lugging around a carry-on bag that we had to overstuff with shit we pulled out of our checked-in luggage because we didn’t want to pay the stupid extra fee. But when millionaire movie stars go to the airport, they wear a casual travelin’ tuxedo and diamonds, and they don’t have to worry about spraining their delicate hands by carrying luggage. That’s why God gave hands to porters, assistants and bodyguards.
After landing at LAX yesterday, Catherine Zeta-Jones sashayed on through the airport while dressed like Carmen Sandiego going to a mobster’s nighttime funeral. That is a movie star, dahling! Because of those glasses and that hat, it looks like CZJ was in a “don’t look at me (but look at me” disguise, and I’m sure that as soon as the paps started snapping at her, she screamed, “Leave me alone! How on earth did you vultures recognize me, Oscar-winning film star, wife of Michael Douglas and QVC couture bedspread designer Catherine Zeta-Jones!?!”
Bitchiness aside, CZJ should be wearing a disguise. I mean, she’s walking amongst the dirty, smelly peasants at a public airport. Shouldn’t she be at a private airport? How embarrassing! She must be going broke.