Kick up those $1,200 Celine boots, pour some bone broth infused with crushed-cricket enzymes and fire up the vagina steamer.
It’s a celebration, Goop-style.
Hollywood golden girl turned woo-woo lifestyle merchant, Gwyneth Paltrow won the trial of the century, a dispute with a septuagenarian over a 2016 skiing accident at a ritzy Utah mountain resort.
And she didn’t even have to try on a glove — though I assume if required, it would have been a cashmere-lined, leather one from Prada.
Gwyneth simply leaned into her crazy, rich self — dripping with luxury goods and grieving over her missed half-day of skiing.
Her yield? One very petty dollar.
A juror told Good Morning America that they sided with the “Shakespeare in Love” star after a snow expert essentially poured cold water on the recounting of events by Dr. Terry Sanderson — who claimed Paltrow plowed into him on the slopes.
They were further swayed by Paltrow’s version after seeing pictures of a carefree Sanderson traveling the world.
He also bizarrely compared her to Jeffrey Epstein, mentioning the “molesting of young children on an island.”
Paltrow did not escape ridicule, though. Because instead of cosplaying being poor and ordinary — maybe raiding the rack at Target for relatability points — she strode into that Utah courtroom in all her austere splendor.
Highlights included a $5,445 coat from the Row, a $25,000 gold chain from Foundrae and her now infamous $325 Smythson notebook.
It was, from what I understand, the first fully shoppable trial.
Between her high-end fashion and her testimony, the display was akin to putting a rich person in a zoo and watching her fascinating, exotic behavior.
Paltrow is clearly not one of us. She is the picture of pedigree and privilege, the aspirational WASPY waif, who wreaks of pre-2008 crash snootiness — a time before it became stylish to be downtrodden.
Best of all, she has no shame.
Just a few weeks ago, she fired up the masses revealing what we already knew: She doesn’t have her local pizzeria on speed dial.
Speaking on an episode of “The Art of Being Well,” podcast, Paltrow said she practices intermittent fasting, consumes bone broth regularly and for an early dinner has lots of vegetables for her “paleo” diet.
It takes starvation, discipline and lots of yoga to look like a Capote swan. Her lifestyle, which is also shoppable on Goop, is unattainable to mere mortals.
And that’s the point.
Unlike many celebrities — ahem, the Kardashians — who are full of fillers, Ozempic and bulls – – t, Paltrow is transparent about the ridiculous measures required to look like her.
Her gaunt cheekbones are earned, not excavated by a plastic surgeon.
She’s also no Meghan Markle with her Tig — a pre-Prince Harry lifestyle blog — which reportedly will be reincarnated to be a Goop knockoff.
Markle cries victim from her Montecito manse and has a “strange relationship to objective reality,” according to a reporter, while other accounts have debunked her rags-to-riches story.
Paltrow, for all her ridiculousness, knows her reality. She’s rich! She doesn’t ask for our sympathy.
She probably thinks she’s better than us. And she’s not afraid to show it.
And there’s a certain, almost admirable, authenticity to her singular brand of snobbery.
It was enough to overtake the phony story from Sanderson — a guy whose case seemed to have been inspired by a Jacoby & Meyers ad he saw during a “The Price is Right” commercial break.
And what did she do after winning?
She whispered a withering “I wish you well” into his ear as she exited the courtroom — one George Washington richer.
Now that’s haute.
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