That's When I Go to Goop

Sometimes I just feel a little bit too confident, a bit too content with all of my admittedly white-bread, middle American life choices. That’s when I go to Goop.

Goop.com is Gwenyth Paltrow’s answer to the question nobody was asking, “How can I be more of a stick goddess whose every decision is pure and healthy and filled with cosmic wonder?"

I last visited the site when writing a (quasi) review of Gwyn’s cookbook, which I’ll call I’m Better At Eating Than You. (Disclosure: I didn’t read the book, but it’s true: she is definitely much, much better at eating than me).

A brief trip to Goop offers many wonders. The main page offers a review of “clean” lip balms, which puzzles me, as I would not have thought a woman of Paltrow’s stature would have trouble finding a lip balm that hasn’t already been sampled. I have this trouble myself when trying to shop the discount bin at Ulta.

But I didn’t stop to investigate further, as my eye was drawn by the promise of learning how to make “Moon Juice.” The article begins with these enticing words: 

“Moon Juice is magic. Like, real magic.” 



Real magic? Like in Harry Potter? Count me IN! But as I continue reading I’m disappointed to learn that the “magic” apparently comes only from consuming exotic ingredients that no one’s ever heard of, like schisandra berry and mucuna (which could not have a less appetizing name).

The writer of this post then goes on to praise the magic juice maker (whose last name, ironically, is Bacon) saying that not only can she invent drinks with weird berries, “she is also other-worldly: She literally glows from within, making any encounter with her, an ‘I’ll have what she’s having’ moment.”

I now begin to understand the “real magic” mix-up from before, since the author does not know what the word literally means. I have been misled by bad grammar. Apparently even consuming only the juice of rare and incredibly expensive fruits does not ensure peak brain function. It seems even Moon Juice has its limits.  

Reverse Schadenfreude

The other week I, along with many others, stumbled across one of the many stories that accompanied the release of Gwyneth Paltrow’s new cookbook: I’m Better at Eating Than You. It’s not actually called that, unfortunately—it’s actually called, “It’s All Good,” which seems like the wrong name for a couple of reasons. One, that’s a phrase usually uttered by folks who genuinely don’t care whether the wings they ordered come out mild or spicy, or if the beer is room temperature. “It’s all good,” those folks say. And we believe them. These are not the type of people who specify that they want not salt but coarse Mediterranean sea salt.

The second reason this name is just weird is that according to Gwynnie—it most certainly is NOT all good. Some of the stuff on her no-fly food list includes: coffee, eggs, shellfish, potatoes, tomatoes, corn, wheat, meat, and sugar. @%$#! Potatoes?! Coffee?! Sugar?! Her no list includes my entire diet except for chicken, incidentally.

The stylish and stick-like actress has taken a lot of heat for the book, in which she shares the gluten-free vegan-organic recipes she uses at home. She’s been accused of being out of touch with regular folks who don’t have the money (or time) to acquire some kind of fancy honey that runs twenty-five bucks a jar, but which Gwyn insists is the best. Yahoo Shine blogger Beth Greenfield figured out that a day of her recipes would cost hundreds of dollars to make for a family of four.

Of course she’s out of touch with regular folks, though. Her father was a film director and her mother’s a famous actress. She never mastered the art of existing solely on ramen noodles (forget the no-carb diet—raise your hand if you’ve ever been stuck with the ALL carb diet!). Guarantee her parents never took her “furniture shopping” on large-item pick up day. The only tawdry experience she’s likely had to endure was Shallow Hal.

I don’t hate her for being out of touch, or for having skinny genes. But I can also sort of see why her whole lifestyle brand-situation rankles some people. The text of a book like this one urges the reader to be better—but the subtext is: the choices you are making now are wrong.

As a one of those regular folks, I can tell you on a good day, I manage to not go to Chipotle for dinner. And don’t get me started on lunch. The other day during lunch period, while grading papers, I ate a remarkable collection of crap including, but not limited to, a stack of Pringles and some of the candy I keep in my desk to use for prizes. Sometimes it’s hard to get through a ridiculously busy day, let alone Be Your Best Self. So even when I’m trying to do better—like I’ve been trying to stay away from soda for the past month or so—I still tend to scoff at people who say they get up at five am to juice, or who’d go to a raw food restaurant on purpose.

The other night on Bill Maher guest Jimmy Kimmel talked about Paltrow. He said people get bent out of shape because she’s perfect, even what she eats is perfect. And yet: the book's current overall sales rank on Amazon is #11. Which just goes to show that life really is just like high school. Everybody rags on the prettiest girl in school for being a snob, and then everybody votes for her for prom queen. In such a complicated world, I suppose it’s a comfort when you realize that sometimes life is exactly like eleventh grade.