Forget Paris

Paris Hilton has been called many things in her young life. Thanks to her affluent upbringing and "celebutante" manner, she's commonly tagged on the Web as a "rich b--ch." Movie critics have labeled her a "no-talent actress," even awarding her a Razzie in 2005 as Worst Supporting Actress for her efforts in the horror flick House of Wax. And based on an evaluation of magazine polls worldwide, the Guinness Book of World Records' 2007 edition will officially dub her the world's "most overrated celebrity."

One title the hotel heiress does not bear is "Poster Girl for Celibacy." Not after she burst into the public spotlight thanks to an infamous caught-on-tape sex romp. Not after posing virtually naked for every men's magazine under the sun. And certainly not after lending her face and body to a horde of advertisements that play up her "That's hot!" sex appeal.

Yet Paris Hilton is now on a campaign against promiscuity. She's supposedly taken a vow of celibacy for a year. And she's encouraging women everywhere to regain their dignity by following her lead. "I think women should be confident and strong, and they often underestimate themselves and give in to men," Paris explains. "Girls need to calm down and realize that sex isn't everything."

Outstanding advice. Only, it's hard not to be confused by the advisor's apparent disconnect between what she says and what she does.

The Proof Is in the Pudding
Having already conquered the TV, movie, fashion and even publishing industries (her 2004 book Confessions of an Heiress became a New York Times best seller), Paris now has her sights set on the music world. And just like Britney, Christina, Hilary, Lindsay and the stream of others to come down the pop princess assembly line, she did the smart thing: She brought in high-profile producers who could make William Hung sound like John Lennon. The result is a CD (titled Paris) that's sonically on-par with her peers—despite Paris' obviously limited vocal talents.

Lyrically, you can forget about her cagey campaign for celibacy. Paris spends virtually every song playing the sex kitten. Amid an opening full of groans, moans and pants, Paris purrs, "Can you make me hot? ... When I lose my clothes/You like that, don'tcha?/Let's get exposed" ("Turn It Up"). Eighties wannabe track "Screwed" finds the self-proclaimed cultural icon begging for the opportunity to demonstrate her worth to a love interest—in the bedroom ("I'm still hoping that tonight, tonight/You're gonna turn down the lights/And give me a little more room just to prove it to you/What do I gotta do?").

In an upside down sort of way the would-be purity queen does exercise her newfound morals on the dance tune "Turn You On." She bluntly states, "Just 'cause I dance with you don't mean you're gettin' some." But she also crassly brags about being every guy's "liquid dream." (Accompanying such raciness are mild profanities, including guest rapper Fat Joe using the n-word twice.)

Don't Concentrate on the Disconnect
So what gives? Is this a case of Paris having already recorded material she now regrets? Has the planet's most notorious socialite suddenly changed her ways in the midst of promoting her debut CD?

Not exactly. Because in Paris' world, you can have your cake and eat it too. Chalk it up to her reasoning that this isn't the real Paris. "I'm always playing a character," she explains. "I don't talk like this really—like a baby. I don't act like myself in public, because I don't really want to show everyone the real me. Because I have no privacy whatsoever, the only thing I have is who I really am."

That may be understandable for a 25-year-old who calls herself a "cartoon" and can't go anywhere without being hounded by paparazzi. But it doesn't justify the contradictory standards of a supposed sex-abstaining role model who's knowingly playing the part—all in the name of expanding her brand. "I play dumb like Jessica Simpson plays dumb," admits the starlet, who now can earn as much as $1 million just for showing up at events. "But we know exactly what we're doing. We're smart blondes."

As owner of, among other things, multiple nightclubs and several clothing, perfume, accessory and cosmetic lines, it's obvious that Paris is a sharp entrepreneur. So, the only way Paris, the album, makes any sense is to not take it personally—to just call it business. Not that that makes everything OK.

"There's a lot of heiresses out there, and I don't see any of them doing what I've done," Paris counters.

There's a reason for that.