"Christine Agro’s career as a pet psychic to the stars started with yoga classes and a yoga student for the famed fashion photographer Bruce Weber.-- From a (all important) New York Times article on Christine Agro and her rich and influential clients. Miss Agro calls herself "a trained clairvoyant natural healer" rather than merely "a fraud".
The Weber family introduced Ms. Agro to Grace Coddington, the fashion icon and creative director at Vogue, who referred her to Buffy Birrittella, an executive vice president at Ralph Lauren,...Ingrid Sischy, the editor in chief of Interview, Joan Allen, the actress, and Julian Schnabel, the director and artist,...her clientele skews toward the glamorous,...a world devoted to the power of the convincing fantasy (often a pricey one — in this case, $100 per half hour).
Some might wonder if Ms. Agro brings her outer-ether clients compassion and common sense,...there are those who would follow her instructions off a bridge because they were true believers in a gift, or true believers in her impeccable In Style credentials.
Recently, says Ms. Agro, some of her clients have started asking if she’d consider working on behalf of babies and toddlers. Ms. Agro is now working on developing that business, under the name the Psychic Mom."
Ahem. O.K., let's tear this apart:
Here's a woman, with no credentials for anything, that all these rich and powerful people want to have dealing with their children because the stupid bitch found somebody's lost cat? Pure fucking insanity.
And fuck her claims to be "trained": In what? By who? What was the criteria for this "training"? How was her success as a "clairvoyant natural healer" measured?
And notice that all her rich clients cater exclusively the two groups that virally spreads New Age bullshit: Certain kinds of gay men and those stupid, magazine reading, women. Those same idiots that are always overly-worried about their weight; wondering about knowing 150 Ways To keep Him Happy In Bed; and living their lives like those sick, paranoid, vengeful and terrified, bitches on the Lifetime Channel. Shit, it's too much - covering the doings of these back-stabbing assholes always gets to me:
Excuse me while I go vomit over our supposedly-finest paper's editorial judgement.