Why Are They Dressing Like This for Paparazzi? The Outrage, the Spectacle, and the Sad Reality of Viral Fame

The Fashion Circus

In the age of social media, nothing is sacred. Not even the clothes we wear—or, more accurately, the clothes we choose not to wear. The streets of Mumbai and Delhi have become runways for a new breed of celebrities: the ones who dress not for themselves, but for the flash of paparazzi cameras and the viral reels they hope will catapult them to overnight fame.

But as the lines between fashion, shock value, and self-respect blur, one can’t help but wonder: Why are they dressing like this for the paparazzi? And what does it say about us, the audience, who can’t look away?

The Blame Game: Paparazzi or Paparazzi’s Prey?

It’s easy to blame the paparazzi. After all, they’re the ones chasing after influencers and starlets, cameras poised, ready to immortalize every “oops” moment and wardrobe malfunction. But as the viral video’s narrator points out, “It’s not just the paparazzi’s fault. They’re just doing their job—and getting paid for it. The real question is: Who’s paying them? Who’s inviting them to these staged ‘spottings’?”

The answer is as uncomfortable as the outfits themselves. It’s the celebrities, the influencers, the PR managers—everyone who knows that in today’s world, attention is currency. The more outrageous the outfit, the more clicks, the more likes, the more headlines.

Outfits or Outrage? When Fashion Forgets Modesty

The video’s commentary is biting, almost painful in its honesty. “Are these even clothes?” the narrator scoffs, struggling to call a handkerchief-sized skirt or a transparent dress an “outfit.” “In today’s times, the concept of private parts is gone. There’s nothing private left.”

It’s a sentiment echoed by many. Gone are the days when people would blush at a bare shoulder or a high slit. Now, the more skin, the better. The narrator jokes, “Our ancestors who once wore banana leaves would bang their heads against the wall if they saw this. These days, the only private parts left are lungs, kidneys, and liver—because they can’t make those transparent yet.”

The Paparazzi Economy: The Less You Wear, the More You Earn

The harsh reality? The more revealing the outfit, the more money you make. “Of course, Devika, the more naked you are, the more you earn,” the narrator deadpans. “Looks like I’ll die poor.”

It’s a cruel equation, one that rewards shock over substance. The industry doesn’t care about comfort, dignity, or even talent. All it wants is a viral moment, a trending hashtag, a few million views.

The Hypocrisy of Discomfort

What’s perhaps most infuriating is the pretense. “They come wearing these clothes, then act all uncomfortable. ‘Oh, this is too short, I feel so awkward!’” the narrator mocks. “If it’s so uncomfortable, why wear it? Take my clothes if you don’t have any, I’ll give them for free!”

The act is transparent. The discomfort is performative. It’s all part of the spectacle—a calculated move to seem relatable, to play the victim while basking in the attention.

The Audience: Complicit or Victimized?

But who’s really to blame? The celebrities who dress this way, or the millions who watch, comment, and share? “I feel worse for those who like and comment on these videos than for the creators themselves,” the narrator admits. We, the audience, are both complicit and victimized—drawn in by the spectacle, unable to look away, even as we complain about the decline of decency.

The Tragedy of the Everyday

Meanwhile, ordinary people go about their lives. “People are just trying to get to work, send their kids to school, survive another day. They didn’t ask for this circus in their morning routine,” the narrator laments. Yet, thanks to algorithms and viral trends, these spectacles invade our feeds, our conversations, our sense of what’s normal.

The Rise of “Fame by Any Means”

The video doesn’t shy away from naming names. “Ever since Urfi got famous for her bizarre outfits, everyone wants to be famous the same way,” the narrator observes. “It’s not about creativity or talent anymore. It’s about who can wear the weirdest, most revealing thing and still smile like they’ve won a national award.”

The smile is telling—a mask that hides insecurity, desperation, and the gnawing need for validation. “Do you think they don’t know how to grab attention?” the narrator asks. “Of course they do. And the people want to be grabbed.”

When Satire Becomes Sorrow

There’s humor in the roast, but there’s also sorrow. “I think I should quit roasting,” the narrator sighs. “Urfi at least started making creative dresses. But these new influencers haven’t even watched her recent videos. If they tried ‘Get Ready With Me’ content, their videos would be over in two seconds.”

The joke lands, but the pain is real. What happens when fame is built on nothing but exposure? What happens when the next generation sees this as the only way to be seen?

The Paparazzi Feedback Loop

The cycle is vicious. “She’s practically naked in public, the paparazzi film her, and then they all go viral together,” the narrator says. “It’s a chain. Don’t bother reading about food chains in your textbooks—this is the real circle of life now.”

The Lost Art of Fashion

Even traditional outfits are not spared. “Now people wear sarees on jeans, or without a blouse, or just over a bra. Everything is sexualized, everything is for the camera,” the narrator mourns. “Instagram is full of reels with girls in sarees without underwear, without blouses, just for attention.”

The Real Cost: Dignity and Disappointment

In the end, the cost is not just to fashion, but to dignity. “What’s your biggest disappointment of 2025?” the narrator asks. “Mine is that instead of earning money, I was literally flushing it down the drain.”

The final plea is simple: “Please, please, please—can we go back to valuing something more than just skin and scandal?”

Conclusion: Hope in Disappointment

As the video ends, the narrator’s voice softens. “I’m as disappointed as you. But the world runs on hope. Maybe one day, we’ll remember that fashion is about expression, not exposure. That dignity is worth more than a viral clip.”

Until then, the circus continues. The cameras flash. The outfits shrink. And somewhere, someone is already planning their next “oops” moment—because in the age of viral fame, nothing is too much, and nothing is ever enough.