My previous readings about Tara Palmer-Tomkinson mostly reinforced the idea that she’s one of those demi-blue-blooded Brits who managed to turn herself into an “It GIrl” socialite and then converted that into a TV presenting career. Kind of like Paris Hilton, but skinnier, older, a bit tanner, and less likely to be spotted posing on the red carpet with her back thrown out of joint.
But apparently Tara P-T ALSO had to have her septum rebuilt in 2006 because it collapsed due to a raging cocaine addiction, is a classical pianist, AND is the subject of a rumor that the British armed forces nicknamed the Tora Bora caves, where Osama Bin Laden was alleged to be hiding, “Tora Bora Tomkinson.” I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not. (I also for a second thought that New Woman magazine had named Tara “Whore of the Year” in 2005, but indeed, I misread it and she was instead their woman of the year. Oh well. Not as fun, but probably better in the long run.)
So in sum, if Wikipedia is to be believed, Tara Palmer-Tomkinson is more interesting than I’d previously thought.
But even so, she is NOT THIS INTERESTING. OH MY GOD, LADY. Where does she think she is? Cannes? Although, in fact, can we PLEASE all just stop with the knicker-flashing and the transparency and the really uncomfortable exhibitionism that smells an awful lot like desperation mixed with dumb? Even the guy she’s grabbing onto is like, “I don’t feel right about this. Can you make it the rest of the way alone? Because I just remembered I have to, um, wash my hair.” I would, however, like to thank her for not turning around for this photographer. That would bring a whole new, tawdry meaning to the phrase, “That girl’s got sheer cheek.”