Last night, Lauren Conrad made an appearance to sign her novel, L.A. Candy at the Barnes and Noble in Tribeca, in Lower Manhattan. A cramped crowd of about 500 young girls, parents, and twenty-something men and women turned up, many of whom had waited for hours for their chance to meet star of MTV show "The Hills." Bookstore staff announced that there would be no photos with Lauren, "no personalization of autographs," and that the store had enough security and police officers to remove anybody who lingered too long near the signing table. There was a brief shriek when it seemed like Conrad would emerge unexpectedly from the bathroom. When that proved to be false, the crowd began chanting her name, hoping to lure her out of the nearby storage area. Ten minutes later, she emerged wordlessly, and stood in front of a row of shouting photographers for a full minute, showing off a silk white top and short black shorts and blindingly glossy lips, before the press got shooed out of the store and she got down to the business of signing books.
Much of the appeal of Lauren Conrad, like the Bella Swan character in the “Twilight” novels, is that she’s a near-perfect cipher for young women. It’s her very blankness that made her so well-suited for “The Hills” -- and a much better choice of star than the woman who will replace her on the show, Kristin Cavallari -- because she doesn’t create drama. Drama happens to her. It’s a feeling that many junior-high-age girls (and some grown-ups) can easily identify with: I'm just trying to be nice -- so why is everybody being so mean to me?
Conrad now faces the daunting task of leveraging her generic persona into a long-lasting career; after all, how to you continue to captivate the public's attention if you're known for being like everybody else and staring blankly at your co-stars? You can, on one hand, try to branch into a legitimate industry, like fashion (which Conrad has attempted and failed to pull off) or, continue milking your manufactured reality show fame -- while pretending to be above it -- for many years to come. Given that "LA Candy" is the first in three books in a series, it seems that she's opted for the latter (she's also expressed interest in turning it into a movie).
Much of the appeal of Lauren Conrad, like the Bella Swan character in the “Twilight” novels, is that she’s a near-perfect cipher for young women. It’s her very blankness that made her so well-suited for “The Hills” -- and a much better choice of star than the woman who will replace her on the show, Kristin Cavallari -- because she doesn’t create drama. Drama happens to her. It’s a feeling that many junior-high-age girls (and some grown-ups) can easily identify with: I'm just trying to be nice -- so why is everybody being so mean to me?
Conrad now faces the daunting task of leveraging her generic persona into a long-lasting career; after all, how to you continue to captivate the public's attention if you're known for being like everybody else and staring blankly at your co-stars? You can, on one hand, try to branch into a legitimate industry, like fashion (which Conrad has attempted and failed to pull off) or, continue milking your manufactured reality show fame -- while pretending to be above it -- for many years to come. Given that "LA Candy" is the first in three books in a series, it seems that she's opted for the latter (she's also expressed interest in turning it into a movie).
Will that be enough to keep the fans' interest? Leslie Notor, a 48-year-old from Princeton who watches "The Hills" with her daughter, says won't be tuning in to the next season ("because Cristin Cavalleri is a ho") but she isn't sure what to expect from Lauren now that she's left the show either. She'll probably be following her in the magazines, she says. "I'm interested in reading about her boyfriend stuff."
Credit: Salon.com
