As Miley Cyrus slips nips and licks dicks willy-nilly across the Internet, it’s hard not to be nostalgic for the innocent days of yesteryear, when child-stars-turned-rock-stars like Hilary Duff didn’t need to resort to bad-girl antics to get attention. Actually, Miley didn’t really need to bang a bong to get attention — she just wanted to.
Did Hilary Duff ever want to toke up or flip off or make a bra-free latte run? There was enough doubt about the matter that when Hil got pregnant, it seemed only reasonable for Chelsea Handler to ask her how she did it.
“Everyone thinks I’m such a good girl,” Hil replied indignantly, “but I figured it out.”
If your respect for Hil isn’t totally lost now that you know that little slut went and had unprotected marital sex at age 24, you might want to revisit her (barely) top 40 hit from 2004, “Come Clean.” Though Hil managed to sell 13 million albums to little girls whose mothers approved, the fact that her 2008 greatest hits collection only moved — wait for it — 5,000 units is testament to the fact that waxing indelible singles was never the forte of the former McGuire. “Come Clean,” with its anthemic chorus, is Hil’s most likely contender for Totally 00s.
If the song qualifies as a guilty pleasure — dig that galloping bass line — the video most certainly does not. With its soft-focus close-ups and ultrasanitized design (let’s be real, Britney would have lost the robe), it approximates what MTV might have looked like on Ozzie and Harriet’s Zenith. While her lover drives all night and tries to get reception on his flip phone, Hil mopes in bed with her cordless (that is not a euphemism) and has a little pout in every single room of her manless mansion.
When a cankle cleanse and a scrapbooking session (to paraphrase Freud, sometimes a glue stick is just a glue stick) fail to cheer Hil up, her friends try to terrify her out of her ennui by running up in the dark and smashing themselves against her French doors. She punishes them by making them watch the video they’re now a part of, and then they disappear — presumably having been human-centipeded in the basement with pinking shears and rubber cement, desperately hoping they’d die of malnutrition before the invention of Pinterest.
By this point we know her lover’s arrival is imminent; but Hil apparently does not, even though she disingenuously slips into a little off-the-shoulder number, clears away the dining room furniture, spreads a Persian rug and pillows on the floor, and lights six dozen First Kiss™ scented candles. Suddenly her man’s headlights shine through the windows, and Hil runs out into the rain to flash her own — nope, to give him a big hug.
What did you think they were going to do? Have sex? She’s only 16 years old, you perv!