I’m writing this as tears make my vision blurry. This is not a forced reaction; it is a truly uncontrollable one. And one that actually took me by surprise. Dolly Parton has passed. She was everything to me and to so many others. When I heard the news, I called my mom. As the phone rang, I burst into tears. “Mom?” She was instantly worried. “Dolly Parton died.”

My mom is a notorious crier—bets were placed at holiday gatherings when I was a kid about when she’d shed tears of happiness about a sentimental gift. She cries at least once a week to me on the phone. I have inherited this trait, but I typically try to keep this side of myself private. In this case, however, the tears were unrestrainable.

Mom, on the other hand, was in shock. That’s the general sentiment online, too. “I always thought she’d be around forever.” What a satisfying way to go—you’re 80-years-old, you’ve had some recorded health issues, and yet you were so full of life that people across the globe are not just saddened, but shocked that the light you emitted was put out.

As I said: Dolly meant so many things to so many people. I won’t try to convey the magnitude of her contributions to the world here. (Her obituary, which landed in my inbox this morning from her PR firm, details her accomplishments in 13 paragraphs.) But I’ll share what she meant to me. She was not simply a Halloween costume (twice!) or the name of my parents’ beloved cat. She was not just a character in one of my favorite films (any guesses?) or someone I considered a kindred spirit via our same astrological sign. (Capricorn!)

I grew up truly fascinated with the world of beauty. I used to love playing with my grandmother’s mini Avon lipstick as a kid. My mom was a cosmetologist, administering both my first perm(s) and set of highlights. I’ve detailed my love of Allure Magazine as a teen. I remember reading a story (unclear if it was in Allure or not) about how an editor “made herself famous”—long before social media made everyone famous in some regard—by hiring a stylist, a glam squad, paparazzi, and an assistant. I was most interested in the hair and makeup. (Not referred to at the time as glam squad, by the way.) How could changing one’s hair and executing your makeup make people see you differently? And on a deeper level, treat you differently?

I wasn’t mature enough to understand the depth of that last question. But it’s one that has informed everything I do in this space. I want to get to the bottom of not why we do the things we do to feel good about ourselves, but how the reaction to them oftentimes informs those decisions.

Dolly, while a talented songwriter, beautiful singer, quick-witted actress and international philanthropist, was proceeded by her looks—at least in my experience. Growing up, she was known as “the woman with the big boobs,” at least where I was from. I remember when I was of developing age and boys at school would taunt girls who had breasts by calling them “Dolly Parton.” It was a jab at something they could not control. Granted, as I got older, I realized the irony was that Dolly did control her looks, meticulously, from her breasts to her wigs. One of her most shared quotes is “…I know I’m not dumb and I’m not blonde.” The other is, “Everybody asks me how long it takes to style my hair. I don’t know, I’m never there!”

Dolly was always made up. She had custom outfits. Her nails done. Wigs out the wazoo. Beautiful, intricate eyeshadow. Her beauty mark emphasized. Fake lashes! She proudly embodied the “too much” side of beauty, in a world where we’re told as women to minimize ourselves as we age. You’d had to be blind not to see Dolly from a mile away.

I remember at my first real on-camera job, there was a whole to-do about my lashes. They apparently “didn’t fit the brand.” Read: not natural-looking in any sense of the word. (Mind you, they hired me to be an on-camera reporter for a beauty vertical.) At one point, I was told I had to stop wearing makeup because I wore too much of it. It was ridiculous, and hindsight made me realize it was a bunch of mean girl media industry mumbo jumbo. But at the time, it reminded me that I was always the person who was “too much” in this area. I was too tan (orange—to this day I love a self-tanner.). Lashes too chunky. I took too long to get ready. (Maybe still do!)

Eventually, this mandate against makeup was either forgotten about or unenforced because I started wearing it again. And things only improved in my career after that. And more importantly, I felt like myself again! I always felt a sense of satisfaction when I’d see her trotting out to an appearance with her giant bustline, perfectly coiffed hair and full face of makeup, thinking that one day I was going to be just as dolled up as Dolly in my golden years.

Dolly dabbled in cosmetic surgery aplenty, too. And she joked about it! “If something is bagging, sagging, or dragging, I’ll tuck it, suck it, or pluck it.” Just this year, she said, “Oh Lord, I’ve outlived so many plastic surgeons. Well, happy birthday to me!” She quips that she was made “by doctors and drugstores.” It was refreshing for someone at her fame level to acknowledge work she’d had done and make light of it in a way that the general public also found palatable…especially when everyone has a pitchfork out. (I don’t think anyone would dare write a thinkpiece about how Dolly’s love for her looks was detrimental to women, but I wouldn’t be surprised given the nature of the internet.) It was clear she didn’t care what you did to yourself, as long as the person you were remained the same.

This sentiment of embracing who you are and not so much what you look like carried over to her humanitarian efforts, often bridging the gap between the left and the right: a country girl with southern traits and morals, who was inclusive of everyone and progressive in her thinking—despite being born in 1946.

Dolly really did embody who I believe the modern woman is and should aspire to be. She cared about literacy and medicine and social issues, but she did it wearing a $10,000 wig and rhinestones with a fresh facelift and boob job. She talked about how she changed her looks to get a leg up in show business and how she’s not “a natural beauty” and has to “work hard for everything,”—a very Capricornian mentality—but this aesthetic focus didn’t stop her making an impact globally or from being taken seriously, especially later in her career.

I’m greatly saddened I never had the chance to meet her, but considering the blubbering going on now, it’s probably best I didn’t. I’m inspired to find humor in all situations because of her—I’d be remiss not to mention I’m writing this having just been microneedled…

I know it could come off (to some) as parasocial to be writing a eulogy for a person I’ve never met. But the more I think about it, the more I appreciate this feeling. To care and grieve someone I never knew. This is what makes us human: to be able to care for others despite not knowing them. My hope is that the world can exercise this feeling to everyone, not just the celebrities we were entertained by.

It’s why I appreciate Lala Kent’s return to The Valley. Many people complained about her inclusion; I don’t think we’d have this Janet storyline if she wasn’t a confidant for her and also knew that in order to create storylines, you have to confront people and lay it all out on the table. I’m perplexed when people ask why “so-and-so is in so-and-so’s business” or want people they dislike off reality tv. Hello? Do you know what you’re watching? It’s their job to meddle! And one of the best parts of reality tv are when people you dislike evolve and redeem themselves.

Anyway, I’ll save my comparison of House of Stassi and The Valley for another day…

House of Stassi, to its credit, is doing something I’ve begged to see on reality television: it breaks the fourth wall. The last season of Vanderpump Rules (the OG version, not whatever this boring mess reboot was to pacify Lisa Vanderpump) would have greatly benefitted if the cast could have spoken candidly about how dramatically things changed and why certain scenarios were set up, especially when people were (rightfully) defensive of Ariana. Ariana signed up to film another season, and while she doesn’t have to like her ex, Tom Sandoval, part of making a reality show is interacting with people you don’t like. We did see her engage minimally with him, but the finale episode where she walked away without a confrontation is why many of her castmates were annoyed. She knew what she signed up for. You don’t show up unless you’re willing to lay everything out on the table. And I understood why the cast felt the way they did about it.

House of Stassi is completely different in that Stassi not only breaks the fourth wall but explains when she’s doing it. It was fun the first episode, but as the series continued on, I found myself feeling like I was watching a more contrived version of reality programming when constantly reminded why we were seeing certain things happen. There’s a way to do this effectively without shoving in down the viewers’s throats and I think this series missed the mark in that regard—at least when it comes to Stassi’s narration. It also makes it seem like every reaction she has is just for the cameras versus being a “real” emotion—a cardinal sin of reality tv.

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I want to give credit to the rest of the cast who hasn’t been on television before, because they all seemed game to test things out, albeit they were boring. I’m curious how they’re going to continue this series when the sole focus is Stassi; other reality shows have several people and couples with varying storylines, all of which keep them as an ensemble; even The Kardashians is about the family, not a singular member. This show clearly stars Stassi in top billing and everyone else is a supporting actor. Which is fine, but I think it’s why the show only had an 8-episode order, and also, why each episode felt heavy and dark. We rarely got to see any real fun be had outside of the dodgeball game and emo night. You need your cast to do weird, random shit to get their feelings out. It can’t always be a dinner or brunch or sit down at home.

Granted, I don’t think this cast really wants to be on reality tv. (Except Beau. You cannot convince me he doesn’t love the cameras.) I think Stassi pushed them into it because it’s what she wants; it appears the pilot test did not do well so Stassi brought in Katie as the savior, and thank god she did! But the rest of the newbies seem like they have one foot in, one out.

The biggest red flag when it comes to this show, however, is that Stassi doesn’t like going to therapy. She says when she has to go, it makes her sad. Let’s call a spade a spade: Stassi has narcissistic tendencies. Therapy is supposed to be a place of introspection and moving past negative behavioral patterns. Narcissists generally avoid this at all costs because they don’t like to take accountability. I hesitate to deem her a full-blown narcissist because I feel her mother, who is the real narcissist here, made Stassi protect herself in a way that’s almost as detrimental to her close relationships as her mother was to her.

It’s why I have a hard time believing Katie didn’t acknowledge Stassi and what she was going through and that’s why Stassi cut her off. Because if we’re seeing anything in this show, it’s that Stassi does not want to hear what her friends are saying to her, or at least doesn’t want to admit when they may be right. Kristina and Taylor both expressed being scared of hurting Stassi or losing her friendship with her, and that leads me to believe that Stassi’s behavior has trained them that they must support her always or be left behind.

She avoids difficult emotions when it comes to her husband. She is not a great communicator. She wants to sweep everything under the rug but strong relationships do not ignore problems. She knows how to stir a pot with the best of them, but there are glaring issues in her relationship—at least it seems that way on television—yet, shockingly, she feels she and Beau are on the right track because he got a tattoo for her that was bigger than the one he got for his sister? A tattoo, that, mind you, he had for three days and she didn’t notice. If you haven’t gotten a tattoo, you have to dress it and make sure it’s healing properly. It’s kind of difficult to hide if you have a partner, and I’m glad her friends clocked this.

She also didn’t ask him how going back to work was, something he was visibly excited for. Beau explains he didn’t bring it up because he knows Stassi doesn’t want him working in the first place. This is where I’m conflicted, because it’s clear Stassi has a safety issue in terms of her home. I think she’s ultimately fearful that both she and Beau will be unpresent for their children; it’s clear she’s also hard on herself and worried about being a bad mom, probably tied to her maternal relationship but also the fact that Beau takes on most of the roles that women handle in the home.

I love that the traditional gender roles are reversed with Beau and Stassi. And I have a hard time empathizing with a man’s need on this front because, like Stassi said, if this situation revolved around Beau not being present, it would be a non-conversation. Beau is feeding the kids and taking them to and from school. They have a nanny. It’s not like he’s solo parenting. But I do get that he probably feels emasculated and maybe even worthless because Stassi holds her breadwinner title over his head and wants him to be kept away in their Hollywood Hills abode like he’s fuggin Rapunzel.

Hell, I travel for work and attend 5-8 events a week; I film on set on Thursdays. Yet I miss being in an office setting where you have a community of people to interact with. I long to work on a set one day with people working toward the same goal. So I understand why Beau feels like he’s losing himself. We need human interaction outside of our family.

Stassi’s problem is not that she’s the sole provider. It’s that she’s behaving towards Beau similar to man who hangs his fortune over his wife’s head and freaks out when he tries to do something for himself. In the finale episode, she says she provides for him and let’s him do whatever he wants, not copping up to the fact that he rarely does those things because he’s been too afraid to ask her, based on her reaction or treatment of him when he does.

I agree that if the roles were reversed people would not give Beau shit about being a present parent (or not), but by the same token, people would be critizing him for not being a good partner and holding “but I take care of you” over her head.

Ultimately, I like Stassi on my tv, but I think she’s got to get more LA friends in the mix who are willing to open up their lives. Kristina Kelly showing up solo to everything is not gonna cut it. I’m glad Katie is back, but Nick, her partner, isn’t close enough with anyone on the show yet. And Taylor and Teddy live in New York. It would benefit the show if Stassi and Beau had other LA couple friends they were close with who were willing to live their lives on camera.

And for the love of god, please limit acknowledging the fourth wall in the next season. I regret asking for this in the first place.

What do you think of House of Stassi?

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I love Ariana Grande because she is talented and effortlessly funny. Her music has helped me through the best and the worst of times, coming at me during seasons of my life when I least expected to be understood. And she lays herself bare in her music, which results in the world’s dissection.

She must have a bizarre life: everything is to be discussed and promptly shit on, even if it starts off tame. In the absurdity of the internet, liking a celebrity (or not) devolves into whether or not you have moral aptitude as a fan. Her relationships are ripped to shreds; her body is used for entertainment. And she’s all but told us to shut the fuck up already. Several songs off the last album (Eternal Sunshine1) and her lead single from her upcoming release (Petal2) reference her fans and the media, alluding to the fact that she keeps quiet about the truth because it wouldn’t change anything, and sooner or later, everyone will come back around. That, plus the nonstop barrage of criticism is rich considering we “aren’t invited to the table3” and have no actual idea what is really happening in her life. And when she does lean into narratives about herself in a tongue-in-cheek way—like “Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored” and “The Boy is Mine,” people are too literal to understand that while she does write about her life, she’s also capable of playing the part of global superstar and delivering fan service, and, psst— she’s in on the joke.

It has to be exhausting.

On the heels of the news that she is no longer with Ethan Slater, aka BOQ, (which, by the way, did not deserve the amount of vitriol he received for his looks, but may have deserved some heat for decidedly leaving his wife and newborn for Grande; I am not him so perhaps that relationship was in a dire place before Wicked started filming) it was rumored she was hanging out with ex Ricky Alvarez. Alvarez is one of her former dancers who she sings about in Thank You, Next: a true Cancerian lover girl anthem about not hating or dragging your former lovers but instead showing gratitude to what they have given you. (I feel her on this one.)

The lyrics detail one-liners about her exes, most of them famous. “Thought I’d end up with (Big) Sean, but it wasn’t a match.” “Even almost got married, and for Pete (Davidson) I’m so thankful.” "Wish I could say thank you to Malcom (Mac Miller), ‘cause he was an angel.”

Her notably less famous ex’s line goes, “Wrote some songs about Ricky, now I listen and laugh.”

But as any famous global pop star is wont to do, she tipped off fans (and in turn the media through social video) that not only are her and Alvarez canoodling again, they’re giving it an honest try through lyric changes on her tour. There’s been varying versions, like “he’s always got my back” and most recently “we always find our way back.”

This is how you celebrity correctly. Give us a show! I’m over the nonchalant bullshit of “are they or aren’t they?” dating blinds and secret rendezvous. Put it out there in the open. Address it directly!

I don’t have to tell you that musicians use their music to allude to things the public has speculated on and that the media has reported on via anonymous sources. (What I wouldn’t give if Beyoncé gave more context clues about Becky with the good hair. Is it Gwyneth or Rachel Roy? I’m still unclear on that one.) Taylor Swift is notorious for this. She has mastered the art of skillful songwriting and leaning into the what everyone wants to know: gossip. Her Gen Z successor, Olivia Rodrigo, has taken notes directly from this strategy and has even done it to name Swift as an antagonist in some of her music without actually naming names.

Most of the time, the lyrics are speculative, but there’s enough clues to nail down who the song is really about.

The celebrities who do this well are the one’s who catapult themselves to international acclaim and, maybe more importantly for their business, a worldwide fanbase. Beyonce laid bare her issues with her husband throughout Lemonade. Swift wrote a 31-track dual album mostly about an ongoing situationship that culminated in a “relationship” that lasted a fortnight (Matty Healy from The 1975). Rodrigo wrote about a grudge and a vampire (allegedly alluding to Swift). She also wrote about former co-star and flame Joshua Bassett and his fling (and fellow Disney alum) Sabrina Carpenter. Carpenter rebuttled with her own song, then went on to air the dirty laundry of Shawn Mendes and Barry Keoghan4 on her Grammy-winning album Short n’ Sweet.

You're so dumb and poetic
It's just what I fall for, I like the aesthetic
Every self-help book, you've already read it
Cherry-pick lines like they're words you invented
Gold star for highbrow manipulation
And "love everyone" is your favorite quotation
Try to come off like you're soft and well-spoken
Jack off to lyrics by Leonard Cohen

Dumb and Poetic, Sabrina Carpenter

This is not a fail-proof plan. Some musicians hint too close to the sun—yet not close enough—and it falls flat. Camila Cabello’s album C,XOXO—her best, if you like unpopular opinions—didn’t perform despite writing revelatory, juicy5 lyrics about how wet she gets for Mendes, singing about their on-again-off-again long-term relationship. And I think the only reasons that album didn’t do well is because it was such a stark deviation from what her fanbase was accustomed to; it was more adult, a different sound; she dyed her hair blonde. As an artist, you can experiment with the music or your looks, not both at the same time. Moreso, Short ‘n Sweet had taken over that summer, in which Carpenter’s escapades with Mendes were detailed through song, which lead to fans deep diving the tabloids to piece together timelines, making Cabello the de facto bad actor in the love triangle by simply existing as the ex-girlfriend Mendes kept going back to.

She’s cool, I heard
Won’t act surprised, I saw the pictures, we’re a
House fire, for sure
Hope it’ll burn out, but it just gets bigger

If she’s so amazing, why are you on this side of town?
If you like her so much, what are you here trying to find out?

Does she get this wet for you, baby?
Talk to you in poems and songs, huh, baby?
Little kiss make your head go hazy?
Is it really love if it’s not this crazy?

(June Gloom, Camila Cabello)

But again… with all of those examples, no names are named. It’s largely speculative. I wonder who the first person was to initiate this tactic. Was it Carly Simon with “You’re So Vain”? (That’s a deep dive for another day.) Point is, it’s a real treat when an artist says everything with their full chest. In the case of Thank You, Next, Grande not only addresses her exes by name in the song, but on the previous album, there’s a song a little over a minute long titled “pete davidson” where she croons about manifesting a soulmate. She doesn’t even name drop him in the song itself. The title is clearly doing the legwork here.

Anyway. I stand by my statement that Grande could have given us some real chaos and rekindled her eternal flame with former fiancé, Davidson. That relationship, if you can believe, was only SIX MONTHS LONG. I would pay Grande to ghostwrite her memoir in about 25 years, because the details of that relationship pique my curiousity to the point that I need to be the one to tell the story in fine detail. She was engaged to him after weeks of dating. Mac Miller dies that September of a drug overdose. They end their engagement a month later. She writes songs about how Davidson can hear her crying in bed about it on her next album. It was too much and yet somehow not enough. A real fever dream.

Pete went from the scrawny SNL comedian to man of the summer—BDE was coined that season due to Ariana claiming he was packing 10 inches (Jesus Christ) in a deleted tweet; he would later go on to say the focus on his penis and the media attention put him into a mental tailspin. He then dated Kim Kardashian.

It doesn’t matter that these two should be nowhere near each other again. Like Ben and Jen (1.0 and 2.0), I loved them together. This photo alone is enough to send me into a spiral. As a straight woman, if you’ve never looked at a man like this, I am sincerely sorry. It’s the look of a woman intoxicated with both obsession, lust and delusion. She probably had not slept in days (for reasons you can deduce on your own). He is stimulating her mind, body and soul. (Emphasis on body.)

It’s the best feeling in the world.

Eventually you will come to your senses. But however long it runs, it’s so much fun.

Jessica Simpson’s influence on me is so relevant, that as I sit here in a Frisco, Texas Starbucks writing this, I’m in a terry cloth Juicy Couture tube top and wedge heels, a look I forever associate with the summer of 2003. At that time, Jessica was blonde and tan, showing off her (naturally) fabulous rack, and asking “Is this chicken what I have? Or is this fish?” for the world to hear.

She was on the precipice of being a global phenom; a singer who was waiting until marriage and dating a man from a boy band. Little did anyone know that Newlyweds, her reality show with said man (Nick Lachey, obviously) would make her more of a commercial success than any singing career could—but it would also ultimately land her the “divorcee” title.

Simpson was an important figure in my life for her aforementioned morals and, of course, being a Texan. Growing up a Christian in Texas myself, it basically state mandate that teens wait until marriage to engage in sex. (Spoiler alert: I did not. Sue me.) There were entire weekends devoted to deepening our association with Christianity. We didn’t drink. We didn’t have sex. (Until we did. And when we weren’t, other things were happening. lol.)

Getting together for a weekend filled with teachings of the Lord and personal testimony was normal. One of these weekends was themed “True Love Waits,” where we not only promised to save ourselves for marriage, but made gifts for our future husbands in which we took small acrlyic boxes and filled them with things meant to symbolize our devotion—not to God, but to our partner: a small piece of string (“I won’t cross the line”), a mini Jet-Puffed marshmallow in the tiniest Ziploc bag created (“I’m preserving myself”), and even a hand-written note explaining why we were choosing to do this. These boxes of soon-to-be psychoses were then wrapped for us to save until our wedding nights.

We were 14.

As you can imagine, this was problematic1 , yet the idea of waiting was commendable in some regards. (I was more scared of pregnancy thanks to Teen Mom–not the fear of God deeming me “unpure” for some dude.)

I don’t knock anyone who lived up to this vow. It takes a lot of perseverance and will power to overcome temptation. But shoutout to my parents who were supportive of this stance yet weren’t the ones pushing it on me. It was not a household rule I needed to live up to, thank god.

But because of these teachings I fraternized in, Jessica was someone I saw as a role model. She was a sexy pop star. She was successful. And she “saved herself for marriage!” (She got married at 22.)

Even though our paths ultimately did not align on that front, as I previously mentioned, the part of her that was most impactful on me was her aesthetic. I’m still rocking it in 2026. She’s the reason I learned about Louis Vuitton and developed a Juicy Couture obsession. I was introduced to the concept of a glam squad due to her being glued to her hairstylist Ken Paves.

Clearly, my interest in Jessica has not let up after 20-something years. When I interviewed her last December, I was able to share memories of trying to emulate her hairstyles and outfits, and brought up how she’s been a constant in the press regarding her looks. I mentioned wanting get details about her astrological chart to learn more about this fascination with her looks from the media and the general public. She was curious, too, and provided me with her exact birth time—corroborated by her mother, Tina, who was also on site.

So I elicited the help of , The Pop Astrologist, to help me decipher her planetary gifts on her 46th birthday. I love following Tasha for her rationale on why things are happening for our favorite celebrities, based on the available info of their chart. Here’s a deeper look at Jessica.

Jessica Simpson

Born: 7/10/80 in Abilene, Texas

Cancer Sun, Cancer Moon, Scorpio Rising

Themes: Broad-reaching, meant to be famous, loves to be paired; if she can think it, she can do it. People are passionate about her (good and bad). She plays the part, but should she?

According to Tasha: The upcoming Eclipse season (August) will be major for Jessica. Especially noteworthy is the Eclipse in Leo in mid-August, activating her house of career and social status (which includes relationship status), introducing a new major storyline for the next 18 months; needless to say, you’re going to want to watch this space.

POPTOPSY: Was fame written in the stars for Jessica? Or did she defy her chart expectations?

Tasha Beg: Considering she has her Lot of Fame in her tenth house of career and social status—in Leo no less—I’d say so (haha). She’s also got Jupiter and her Sun in their favorite houses (eleventh and ninth, respectively), inherently expanding her social network and reach. Twelfth-house placements, i.e., her aforementioned Mars in Libra, could also conjure this collective obsession and parasocial connectivity with her.

That being said, she wasn’t meant to be “your typical pop star,” with a Mercury Retrograde in Cancer and a Mars in Libra (among other placements). I’d say she was meant to be a creative visionary with broad appeal, in whatever medium she chooses to express herself in.

What does Jessica’s chart say about partnerships? She was a solo artist, but she really took off once Newlyweds aired; people also appreciate her and her sister, Ashlee, when they’re together.

TB: A few things really (the chart usually reinforces a theme through various placements or aspects). For starters, she’s a Scorpio Rising, which means she inherently has Venus, the planet of love, money, values, and artistry, ruling her arena of relationships. That Venus is in Gemini, the sign associated with twins, siblings, pairs, and youth, and is placed in her eighth house of merging and shared resources (very newlyweds-coded).

Jessica’s also got Mars, the planet of action and behavior (and her chart ruler, as a Scorpio Rising), in relationship-oriented Libra, suggesting a natural inclination towards coupling up and doing things in pairs (sometimes to her detriment). Her Mars is located in the twelfth house of collective consciousness, with some astrologers clocking the house as a “career house.”

Last but not least, she’s got Juno, a relationship asteroid situated on her North Node (destiny & growth) in Leo, the de facto entertainer of the Zodiac in her tenth house of career, legacy, and social status.

All to say, partnerships play a huge role in her chart and career evolution✨

What does her chart say about her strengths? Her weaknesses?

TB: Strengths: Warm and personable, great motherly instincts, charming, hard worker, creative genius, savvy entrepreneur and businesswoman, talented and multifaceted, has a way with words.

Weaknesses: codependency, being a “hopeless romantic,” losing herself in the fantasy of the relationship rather than the reality of what’s happening; can be overly attached to a hyper-curated image; a strong desire to be palatable getting in the way of her true voice and intuitive nudges; can be easily manipulated if she’s not careful.

She’s had a long-lasting fashion and beauty business. Is there anything that indicates this is her true calling outside of performing?

TB: With a Cancer Sun and Moon, Jessica is like a divine feminine Swiss-Army-Knife powerhouse, able to do it all with seemingly effortless aplomb; if she can dream it up, she can certainly birth it into existence. Throw in Jupiter and Saturn in Virgo, as well as her Mars in Libra and Venus in Gemini, and you have the makings of a bona fide lifestyle entrepreneur with a multitude of creative levers to pull from.

She has constantly been scrutinized for her looks, good and bad—do you think her chart positions her in a way that make people want to talk about her appearance, or is this something that just comes with the territory when you’re a famous woman?

TB: I’d say both—the chart is operating within the context of a hyper-patriarchal and misogynistic collective.

That being said, there are placements in her chart that can reflect navigating heightened criticism and scrutiny—especially concerning beauty standards and how people project their relationship insecurities onto her. As a Scorpio Rising, she’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, magnetizing very passionate responses on both ends of the spectrum.

My mind also goes to her Scorpio Rising chart ruler, Mars in Libra, a placement deemed by traditional astrologers as being “in detriment.” While it doesn’t inherently mean it’s a bad placement (and can actually speak to her natural talents as a performer), Mars naturally speaks to challenges or antagonization, especially in the sign of Libra—beauty, relationships, and social standards.

I’m also thinking about her Saturn in Virgo in her eleventh house of fandom and wider network, co-present with Jupiter. Saturn can imply restrictions or limitations, while Jupiter magnifies whatever it touches. In Virgo, both can create controlling environments that facilitate intense self-inadequacy; she may never feel good enough, reflected in harsh criticism from the culture. I can’t help but reflect on her public weight loss journey and the scrutiny she had to navigate with that, on top of having to be hyper-aware of her sexuality while being managed and marketed by men.

Ahead of the Kirb

Jessica Simpson’s 2003 Aesthetic is My Summer Vibe

She is iconic. She contains multitudes. She introduced me to hair extensions, edible makeup, and Louis Vuitton. I desperately need a tan and a Juicy tube dress…

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a year ago · 107 likes · Kirbie Johnson

On that note, her early 2000s aesthetic is something people are nostalgic for. Does she have any similar placement(s) as other trendsetters, past or present, that come to mind?

TB: I’d say nostalgia core and Cancer go together like peanut butter and jelly. Think of fellow Cancer Sun style icons like Lana Del Rey and Princess Diana, and pop artists who’ve branched out into beauty and lifestyle products like Selena Gomez and Ariana Grande. As a collective, we have just come out of a year of Jupiter in Cancer, further amping up our desire for the comforts of a past amid an uncertain future. That being said, Sabrina Carpenter does come to mind, with her Mars in Libra and Venus in Cancer placements, as well.

What’s the (or a) lesson Jessica has to learn, based on her chart?

TB: One of the lessons Jessica is navigating is how to cultivate trust and restore faith in her voice. She’s here to really express herself and be visible (whether in her songwriting or within her relationships), to be more honest and direct about how she feels, rather than playing to what she thinks the people or relationship would want. She gets to evolve from her role as daddy’s little girl.

She became mega popular by leaning into a “ditzy” persona. I recently learned I have a few aspects of my own chart that lean into the fear of being “seen.” Specifically, I fear not being taken seriously. Is there an aspect of her chart that makes her fearless of other people’s opinions? Or someone willing to “play the part” to succeed? The “Is this chicken or is this fish?” moment comes to mind.

TB: Yes, absolutely! First off, I always go back to her Scorpio Rising and her Cancer placements, the idea of water taking up whatever form it flows into elementally speaking.

As a Scorpio Rising, she naturally has Leo occupying her tenth house—the most visible part of her chart meeting a rather private self; there’s a paradox built into her energetic blueprint: “Is it safe enough for me to be my true self? But what if everyone hates me?” She’s learning to toe the line of what she can share publicly through her work, distilling the essence of how she feels, rather than exposing all the intricate details of her life. As such, I think it’s brilliant how she created a brand or persona larger than herself to really market her platform and business through. Her eponymous Jessica Simpson brand (how very Venus in Gemini) is a lovely synchronistic touch.

That Venus in Gemini forms a harmonious aspect with Pluto in Libra, implying a level of sweet manipulation (with us as the audience, but perhaps also within her relationships to keep the peace)—speaking to that “willing to play the part energy” you’re picking up on. That said, she may struggle to go “off-script” in her real life if she’s not self-aware.

When it comes to being fearless of other people’s opinions, I’d say she’s learning how to combat that and her own internalized standards of comparison. She’s got a tough exterior, but a very sensitive underbelly.

SPOILERS AHEAD, I’m warning you. Like, by the end of the first paragraph you’ll get an idea of how this movie ends. Save for later if you don’t want to be spoiled!

I cannot express how many times in my media career that I’ve thought to myself, “If I became a billionaire—hell, even just a multi-millionaire—I’d throw all my money into legacy publications and journalism that caters to women.” Not that I’d want to be a billionaire, but I’d definitely need “fuck you” money to consider getting into the publishing landscape. Granted, I know why women like Melinda Gates or Oprah or Taylor Swift or Sara Blakely (or whoever) do not make this investment. (I also understand the drawbacks of having a celebrity own a media conglomerate.) It’s not a financially sound decision. If they did it with truly unegotistical motives, it wouldn’t make them any money, realistically. (Not that they’d need it to.) But this fantasy is one of the many reasons The Devil Wears Prada 2 works.

I’ve had this delusion on and off for most of my adult life: if I had an embarrassment of riches, I would fund a women’s publication—multiple—so that they wouldn’t be beholden to freebies to do their jobs, kind of like how things used to run when magazines were sending black cars and editors were regarded as more important than a deity. In this made-up world of mine, the employees of the beauty department would have a monthly stipend for services and products to buy. They would not have to worry about being removed from PR lists or pissing people off with lengthy, in-depth, “what-the-fuck-is-this-brand-even-saying?” reviews. The only concern would be to deliver for the readers, viewers, listeners, et al. There would be large budgets to fund sunscreen testing and anti-aging claims and all kinds of ventures that would help the pub separate itself from its competitors. There would be large budgets to hire freelancers with strong voices and followings of their own. I guess the idea would be, actually, to start my own media company with a portfolio of titles. Granted, anyone with half a brain cell right now is yelling at the screen, “Kirbie, no!” 2006 it is not. But a girl can dream!

I went into the screening of this film fairly nervous. I’m against sequels of this nature because they rarely live up to the original. They’re always too nostalgic, focusing on reliving the past instead of embracing where everyone is in the present. If they do embrace the present, it gets weird. (See And Just Like That Season 3.) At first, I said I would rather see Meryl, Anne, Emily, and Stanley in an entirely different film together; something still comedic and fun but not a derivative of Prada.

But within the first minutes of this film, it was clear the filmmakers had those same concerns. How do you keep the essence of a beloved film from 20 years ago while keeping up with the very dark reality of the industry it’s set in? You keep the score and the pacing reminiscent of the chick flicks we grew up with so it feels familiar to the moviegoer who enjoyed rom-coms in the early ‘00s. The ones who dreamed of being Carrie Bradshaw or Jenna Rink or Andie Anderson—famed magazine editors/writers in the movies and on TV. Then, you keep them engaged by showing you did your homework on the state of the journalism world.

Let’s set the scene: Andy Sachs (Hathaway) gets laid off from a hard news outlet while receiving an award for work she did for said publication. She goes viral for saying journalism still matters—perfect timing to be hired by RUNWAY to help shape their editorial voice and standards after a catastrophe involving the magazine’s involvement in publicizing a fashion brand that has unethical labor practices (a la Shein).

The thing this sequel does well is it keeps the arm’s-length relationship between Miranda (Streep) and Andy intact. Because the fact is that they would not have been chummy, and Andy would have been a blip on Miranda’s radar—another Emily that had come and gone. Most sequels reunite the cast and somehow, the characters have developed a relationship with another, out of the public eye. Which immediately excludes the audience and doesn’t evoke memories of how the original film made us feel. The Miranda/Andy dynamic was crucial to the first film and even more important for sticking the landing of the second. Plus, keeping the tension between Miranda, Andy, Nigel (Tucci), and Emily (Blunt) allows for the comedic moments to take shape.

Same with Miranda having to adapt to how the corporate world works now: she’s relegated to hanging up her own coat, she isn’t allowed to judge people based on their appearance—although she struggles with politically correct vernacular in meetings, a driver of laughs in my theater, seeing an old dog try to (poorly) attempt new tricks. She’s forced to fly coach once a tech company gets involved in RUNWAY’s operations… perhaps one of the more unbelievable parts of the film, yet a fun moment nonetheless.

Of course, this is a film, and some fantasy is necessary to make it enjoyable. Otherwise, make a documentary about the state of media and call it a day. But there are things that don’t make much sense at all, such as: Andy getting laid off from a hard news venture only to be hired by fake Condé Nast with a salary twice what she was making—which could be true if her original salary was pennies; but the insinuation is she’s making the big bucks, given she moves on up to a new condo, so I have to believe that falls into the fairytale column of the film. It’s been a minute since I’ve stepped foot into a New York pub’s office, but I do not think it’s a bustling, bright, flat-screened paradise as it’s depicted in the film, where every desk is filled and the lighting is warm and inviting vs. cool-toned and overhead.

Yet there are many things they get very right. Andy writes stories that are important and meaningful; she’s chastised for not getting page views and relegated to also writing listicles about enzyme peels. (That one hit close to home.) Big tech and some dude who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing swoop in and change everything. (Boo.) The entire storyline about a brand getting a feature as a “make good” was nausea-inducing but accurate. (And honestly, a fun part of the film.) Nigel revealing he’s Andy’s fairy godfather, who ultimately got her the job because he cares about her, felt realistic—I don’t want to speak on behalf of all millennials, but I’ve had my fair share of hard-ass colleagues, bosses, etc. that at face value acted liked they disliked me; turned out, they were watching over me because they saw my value. (Perhaps not a blanket sentiment for the audience, but something personal that made the film that much more enjoyable. I clearly thrive on “rise to the occasion” relationships.)

There’s a Gaga cameo and performance, a really great Dior outfit Emily Blunt sports that I couldn’t stop thinking about—it’s been a minute since I’ve seen a film and thought to myself, “I want those overalls!”—beautiful set design. Meryl is great, Anne is too; the script is good.

The film allows us to daydream of a world where journalists get the freedom to write important stories for huge corporations without worrying about page views. (At least sometimes.) It brings to life the (my?) fantasy of “wealthy-woman-seeks-to-give-away-her-entire-fortune-and-invests-in-women’s-journalism,” where, for 90 minutes, we can pretend magazine life was a life worth idolizing again.

And yet it’s also very honest, too. Miranda tells Andy there won’t be any interference from Lucy Liu’s billionaire character now that she’s the one who has acquired RUNWAY… at least not yet.

Sure, some will walk away scoffing at the film, which is nicely tied up in a bow, going through a checklist of inaccuracies. But I think it’s fair to suggest a pretty bow and a fairytale is what we need now.

Here’s to hoping Meryl shows up at The Met Gala in Miranda cosplay.

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I can’t say I totally disagree with some of the criticism around Sam Levinson’s writing of women. At times, it seems as if he enjoys seeing his actors be put through humiliation rituals, whether that’s Chloe Cherry making herself slobber all over herself, Zendaya being forced to clean up shit, or Sydney Sweeney acting like an adult baby. Granted, these are in-demand actors with agency, and they are getting paid to tell Levinson’s story. And for what I may dislike or feel is unnecessary, there’s much more that I find to be true to the human condition, interesting storytelling, and poignantly relatable. But there’s been several times in the last two seasons that I’ve rolled my eyes when I’ve seen Sweeney’s (massive and honestly, beautiful) breasts on my screen.

However, there’s been a wave of negativity around this season that feels, frankly, a little juvenile and not always earned. From the character development to the makeup, the critiques all sound the same: “Nate wouldn’t act like that!” “The makeup isn’t creative!” “This show is nothing without Labrinth!”

But a lot of that reaction misses the point. Today’s TV audience has started to conflate art with complicity, especially when you can fire off your first thought online while you’re still watching. The algorithm doesn’t reward nuance or patience; it rewards immediacy. If something doesn’t hook you in three seconds, you’re already scrolling.

Longform storytelling is struggling because people don’t sit with it long enough. You have commenters declaring an entire season “bad” after one episode of a show built on multiple characters. You know what I thought sucked after one episode? Breaking Bad. I’m glad I stuck with it. Same with Summer House. (And yes, the differences between those shows are obvious. And intentional.)

Part of this shift also comes from how close audiences now feel to creators. When everyone can make something, everything starts to feel like it’s a direct reflection of belief. There’s no distance anymore—creators are in the comments, reposting reactions, engaging in real time. Even if someone like Sam Levinson isn’t doing that personally, audiences are conditioned to expect that level of access and accountability.

So instead of interpreting art, people are positioning themselves against it or for it. It becomes about alignment: what’s right, what’s wrong, who deserves support. And sure, that framework can be useful, but it also flattens the conversation. Depiction doesn’t equal endorsement, and saying something isn’t the same as co-signing it.

When everything is filtered through morality, people stop asking the questions these programs are begging them to consider: what is this actually trying to say?

Last season, Maddy uses the R word while speaking to Kat, and Kat even tells her she can’t say it, but Maddy says it again. She also said it in season one. This is a word I do not condone and would never say myself, but also, Alexa Demie, while she may be saying the word, is reciting a line being written for a character. And that line depicts who the character is: someone who is headstrong and full of confidence, but also not necessarily politically correct or even considerate with her words. It makes you wonder if she’s ever been around anyone with an intellectual disability, and if not, if that would stop her from saying it.

It makes you consider the character at hand. What their motivations are (or not).

On a lesser note, there’s this argument that Cassie isn’t confident and Nate isn’t a pushover simply because that’s not how they were last season. But there’s been a five year time jump. And while Maddy seems to have a similar headstrong approach to life, if you recall, we also know she knew who she was from a young age. Lexi has evolved from being a pushover to writing a school play to now wanting to call the shots literally by becoming an assistant to a director. Jules, who dropped art school in favor of being a sugarbaby, has stuck to her character arc: Rue tells her in season two during her intervention that she’s greedy and that she doesn’t love her, she just loves to be loved. She’s now a muse versus an artist: an object to be seen, used, taken care of and adored—for money. She finds value in being wanted.

Cassie, once unstable and nearing (or perhaps entering?) a psychotic break due to putting herself between her best friend and her ex is now confident. And bored. Hence the costumes and online photos, attempting to become famous. She landed her man and he eats out of the palm of her hand. He tells her as much when they first got together. “You don’t know the power you have,” he says as he slips off her underwear and goes down on her at his father’s construction site. Cassie tells him he can control her in any way he wants: what she eats, what she wears, when and how often they have sex. She wants all his friends to want her, but only he can have her. She sticks to that this season. And we know Nate Jacobs loves it—it’s why he beat shit out of Tyler in season one when Maddy claimed she blacked out and had sex with him in the pool in front of everyone at that party. And because Cassie gives him what he wants, he’s her lapdog, despite calling her like one in the first episode of this season. It’s clear Cassie gets what she wants when we see the wedding is overpowered with florals, over $50,000 worth.

If you need any more indication these characters have changed since high school, take Nate’s relationship with his father. In the past, they could barely speak without humiliating each other. Now, they’re talking about ass sex after Nate turned his father into the cops and he became a registered sex offender. He used to have dreams that his father was sodomizing him; they were declaring their love for each other at the wedding. Sounds like Nate went to therapy or at least worked through some of the issues he and Cal had.

We saw a glimmer of this impending change when Nate turned up to Jules’s house at the end of season two with her tape and apologized for what he did, telling her he meant everything he said when he was pretending to be Tyler. It’s what makes the meeting between the two at his wedding even more savory.

But some things remain the same, and it’s what makes the show a fun watch. Rue continues to fuck up. It’s clear her mom has stuck to her guns after telling her last season that if she wants to ruin her life, she’s not going to stop her. But she’s not allowing her back home and not answering her calls, either. Now, Rue’s gotten herself within the DEA’s oversight and things can only get worse from here now that the feds are involved. With Maddy, there’s a glimmer of sadness at the wedding. I believe it’s because she realizes Cassie isn’t sorry because she misses her friendship with her—it’s because she wants fame. And Cassie blew up their relationship for a guy and it worked out for her. (At least on the outside.) But Maddy knows what she wants, and she’s hellbent on making money off Cassie. She’s a means to an end. If that happens to affect Cassie’s relationship with Nate, so be it. (I’m convinced she’s a Capricorn.) Jules is still letting men come between her and Rue and use her for their pleasure, but this time she’s not just getting personal satisfaction out of if, she’s making money. Nate, while he doesn’t seem to be as evil as he was in highschool, still makes decisions that will end up negatively affecting the people he loves.

That isn’t to say the show isn’t partly responsible for these uninformed outcries and misunderstandings: when a show that’s 8 episodes goes four years between airing, the audience forgets. Most of them aren’t rewatching those prior 16 episodes before to the new season. And thus we’re left with responses and commentary based on first impressions and muddied memories.

But we must let this show evolve. Or else it risks becoming a parody of itself.

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