You’re probably hearing a lot about at the minute.
That’s not a coincidence.
This woman is the absolute epitome of what it means to be ‘famous’.
I’m not talking about talented – of which she is, I’m certain – or the kind of ‘fame’ Hollywood actors may enjoy, or loathe, throughout their glittering career.
I’m referring to that very specific, deliberate kind of courting and stoking of celebrity flames expertly executed by only a select tier of those in the spotlight.
Yes you could say Kim Kardashian also falls into this boat, so does Kanye West, I suppose. So, is it any surprise Fox, 32, has now fallen into this category, as a member of the Kimye Venn diagram of infamy?
This time last year, you hadn’t heard of her, had you? Heck, even I’d watched Uncut Gems, sorry, , and I still hadn’t the foggiest idea who she was in that film. Was she even in it? Or have we all just been in a fever dream since 2019?
In January, if you were a fine consumer of celebrity news and gossip you most certainly knew who she was, after – and was not shy on the details.
Soon Julia Fox and her torso were everywhere and, despite most ‘celebrities’ giving me the almighty ick as soon as they’ve landed on the scene, I was intrigued by this one. So much so, I about it. Eh, you can’t fault me for having a schtick.
But where in other cases I’d be so morbidly bored by anyone still trying to cling onto their 15 minutes, I find Fox’s courting of fame wildly entertaining. It’s almost pantomime in nature.
From the interviews to the garish eye make-up, is the woman serious? We may never know.
Forget the paparazzi photos – even if I need the name of her double-sided tape, because those boob tubes are not budging a millimetre – or the ill-fated Ye romance, Julia Foxy is so much more than that now.
She’s said so many wild things in the past few weeks, I’m not even associating her with rapper West anymore. She’s ascended to a higher plane.
Why? First, we have the meme-ability.
On her appearance on the Call Her Daddy podcast, we were introduced to the now-iconic way she pronounced film Uncut Gems.
Teamed with her assertion she was Josh Safdie’s ‘muse’ for the movie – not the film’s lead, Adam Sandler – which is something he’s not confirmed nor denied so far as we can see, these few seconds of gold will ring around the pop culture sphere for eons.
Then, we have her red carpet looks.
I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say the woman is trolling us, but her look at the Vanity Fair Oscars party this week strongly suggests she’s having the last laugh.
Turning up to cameras in a dress that featured a plastic (I’m sure it’s a more stylish material than plastic, but Central Saint Martins graduate I am not, so we’re going with plastic) hand that mimicked being choked, in a semi-failed attempt to hold the dress up, as well as a bag made of ‘real human hair’, the woman is brilliantly bonkers.
Then we have her explaining her make-up to one red carpet reporter, in which she wistfully confirms she does indeed do her own glam (she shares her secrets to the ‘Fox Eye’ on her Instagram, should you want to replicate for Halloween), breathily trailing off her sentences and leaving the interview awkwardly hanging in the air.
Honestly, go girl, give us nothing.
Shall I mention her unwavering confidence? Yes, I think I shall.
Julia Fox is who I aspire to be when I grow up, if not for her ability to turn a pair of (another social media tutorial) but at least for her unshakable faith in her own talent.
On the red carpet this week she was asked about her upcoming projects, of which she mentioned her book.
While she couldn’t tell us what was in it, she did reveal it was a ‘masterpiece’ – ‘If I do say so myself’. The woman backs herself and deserves minus scorn for such a comment and maximum praise for just putting it out there.
And when asked if it was a memoir? Well, it ‘was a memoir at first, but now it’s just, like, my first book, you know?’
Oh, I know.
Is the woman even a great wordsmith? Who cares. What about her background in writing? Irrelevant. Does she have a ghost writer? Probably, and why is it not me? But the tome is a masterpiece because she says it is, and you just know that thing is going to fly off the shelves whenever she deems us worthy enough on which to bestow upon us its glorious prose.
Even if the book doesn’t exist, she’s keeping us hanging onto and gagging to know more, dangling just enough information in front of our salivating gobs to keep our interest piqued without oversaturating the scene.
After the week that’s been, it takes a special someone to be able to infiltrate social media chatterings when everywhere you turn you’re seeing a man getting slapped.
So to that, I thank thee, dear Julia, for giving us an entertaining antidote to another week of ‘wake me up when it’s over’ Hollywood rhetoric.
You absolute (uncah) gem.
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