If you're not an A-lister, you need to roll up the red carpet attitude

In January, I was dating an American jock who kept complaining that people cared more about the TV commercials than the football game during the Super Bowl. After the third time he mentioned it, I dumped him.

Now, it's déjà vu all over again. I am seeing a self-professed cinephile, and he keeps whining that the Oscars are being taken over by the pre-show red carpet and the fashion police who pass judgment on which nominees were the best and worst dressed.

I don't see much of a future with this relationship either.

I think most people - not just glamazonians like me - enjoy scrutinising the gowns and trading bitchy comments with their girlfriends. To be honest, this is the only reason why we watch the marathon broadcast.

Do you think we care who wins the Best Animated Short Film or Best Cinematography? The Oscars broadcast starts at 8am in Hong Kong and we were slurping cosmos for breakfast, so you bet we were looking for wardrobe malfunctions and sartorial devastation.

We were hoping either Judi Dench or Meryl Streep would channel Cher for one night and wear something entirely inappropriate, tacky and in lime green. And we were rooting for Jennifer Lawrence to break her winning style streak and choose something ridiculous or outlandish - maybe a leftover Halston from the set of .

The real problem I see with the excess of red carpet coverage is that everybody now thinks they have to behave like a celebrity. Every tai-tai going to dinners, cocktails or even afternoon tea wants to sashay into a place as if they were being swamped by a phalanx of paparazzi - but it's actually just a roomful of fellow patrons astonished by such vain ego-tripping.

Honestly, aunties, do you really need to "work it" all the time?

It's one thing for Angelina Jolie to stand with a hand on her hip and one leg sticking out of an Atelier Versace gown at an Oscar ceremony seen by millions around the world. But it's quite another when a socialite wearing an H&M dress that's two sizes too small strikes the same pose at a fund-raising dinner for her child's school in front of 30 other parents.