Dear Gwyn, please don't leave Goop!
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By Andrea Peyser
Aug 15, 2016

Dear Gwyn, please don't leave Goop!

This is a pop-culture emergency, people!

Scary-skinny “Iron Man” actress Gwyneth Paltrow, 43, the rich, white woman who’s turned an evident eating disorder into a branding opportunity, is experiencing a full-blown blond existential crisis.

She said she plans to abandon her lifestyle Web site,Goop.

No!

Gwyn aims to dissociate herself from the groundbreaking health and e-commerce entity that sells peasants such baubles as the $15,000 24-karat- gold-plated “Inez” vibrating personal massager by adult toy company Lelo. The rechargeable dildo is so fabulous, so shiny, so sleek — just like Gwyn­eth! — it seems inconceivable that any one of us ever climbed between the sheets without one, then sucked on an American Spirit cigarette in the afterglow, which the hypocritical clean-living freak has confessed she does daily.

I’m not here to discuss the Golden One’s filthy habits, but rather to determine if I can save the Goop-approved $395 nipple clamps.

“The challenges I encounter every day running a business and operating a business are incredibly fulfilling, and totally terrifying and really awesome. It’s been an amazing journey,” Gwyn declared at the Sage Summit 2016 in Chicago late last month. The news hit the 15,000 souls who gathered to hear her oversharing like mugwort vaginal steams in their faces.

“So I always think how can I grow the brand,” she rambled, “how can I separate myself from the brand, and I think it’s going to be more its own brand. More and more, I would like it to be its own brand — my dream is that one day, no one will remember that I had anything to do with it.” You read that right, gibberish fans.

A source close to Gwyn­eth told The Post that it’s true — she’s consciously uncoupling (sorry) from that awesome journey. Bye-bye, Goop.

What will we do now?

I suppose it was inevitable that Gwyneth, mom of two, who divorced her Coldplay frontman hubby, Chris Martin, 39, and reportedly plans to tie the knot later this year with TV show-maker Brad Falchuk, 45, would dump Goop, a digital inanity she started in 2008. I see Goop as a window into the lacy and cobwebbed recesses of Gwyneth’s mind, a place at once utterly pretentious, narcissistic, weird — and disturbing.

Through Goop, it is possible to pick up aspirational trinkets — the site’s 2015 guide to “Ridiculous (and Awesome) Gifts” included a $244 toothpaste squeezer. You know, to help one save pennies by getting every last drop of fluoride-free, gluten-free, saccharine-free, sodium laurel sulfate-free Botanique by Himalaya Neem & Pomegranate Toothpaste out of the tube.

But Gwyneth’s neuroticism has gravitated below the belt, which makes me worry that she might be undergoing mental mania or early menopause. She pushed the wonders of the Mugwort V-steam, a $50-a-half-hour uterine cleanse available at a California spa — which gynecologists have slammed because female parts are self-cleaning.

The recent fascination with sex toys — who can live without a $535 black-and-gold cat whip? – was so overwhelming, Goop published its first-ever “Sex Issue.”

I took it as Gwyneth’s epic cry for help.

Then there was this: “For the friend who truly has it all,” Gwyn­eth decreed, give the gift of an opulent brand of toilet paper.

It costs $956 — for a nine-month supply.

To quote Goop: “Joseph’s Toiletries is the most soothing and absorbent toilet paper in the world. Each individual sheet is a multilayered microcosm of form and function constructed with comfort and cleanliness in mind. Tender virgin new-growth fibres are refined with a provitamin B5 and essential mineral coating to provide maximum skin protection even in dry use.’’

There’s more, but she lost me at “tender virgin.’’ The thought of that “microcosm of form and function’’ getting soiled and flushed down the toilet sent me into paroxysms of environmentalist grief.

Girlfriend, I promise, it will get better. Gwyneth Paltrow — please don’t leave Goop. I’ll even buy the Goop-approved $42 condom dispenser — just to feel closer to you.

©2007-2017 Andrea Peyser and andreapeyser.com; No Reuse without permission.
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