The Reluctant Whore

If there was any doubt that Kate Moss not only hates herself but can’t quite seem to slash her own wrists so she’s getting someone else to do it, that she wants to seriously hammer home that she is definitely going to be a professional liability to any potential future employers, that she’d like for her popularity to consistently plummet and that no thank you, she’d really prefer to not work any more, then that doubt has now officially dissolved with the announcement that she really is marrying professional walking disaster area, Pete Doherty. Kate Moss – that towering stick figure muse of the nineties whose famous and skeletal frame represented more than just an eating disorder born out of a lack of self esteem and pressure from too many cannibal fashion executives, it represented values from the nineties we all held dear: unending crippling emotional pain, a body eaten away by a starved soul, confused genderlessness, organic fibers, white noise, pained but unquestioned beauty – has, when you think about it, officially announced her cultural descent by marrying the deadbeat boyfriend who swore he’d never commit. But when you think about it; if she so adequately represented the nihilistic nineties, it’s really only fitting that she’d more or less go the way of Cobain. Pete Doherty’s chronic inability to really coherently adhere to anything besides smack and his vehement refusal to marry Kate Moss seems like a pretty good reincarnation of the spirit of Cobain and therefore he’s probably the right vehicle through which Kate can confirm her descent. To your *ahem*, health Ms. Moss. While there’s nothing we can do for you now, would you really want us to at this point anyway?[source]