It feels stupid to look good. I remember being no more than 6 and being recruited to the ranks of adult church. This was torture for the youngster whose attention span rivaled a blink. Worst of all was having to ... dress up. My face puffed and the tears flowed as I was “forced” to button my collar up to the neck and then tuck my shirt in. I felt confined. I liked my shirt to run over the beltline, and my neck to be free of “polyester chains.”

“This is stooopid, mom,” I bleated through choked tears and saliva. Mom, of course, told me I was handsome and to quit being silly. I should have listened to her, but the claustrophobic nature of dressing up dominated my psyche.

And it still does. Dressing up is still alien to me, and I’m always more comfortable in three day sweats. Clothes have never been a priority, and I wonder how so many people can be consumed by fashion.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t understand “Zoolander,” Ben Stiller’s parody on the fashion industry. I felt like a little kid again, blubbering and carrying on — not about clothes, mind you — but about wasting three dollars.

Ben Stiller (who also directed and co-wrote the movie) is Derek Zoolander, the top fashion model in the industry who’s high on posing but low on thinking. Derek is based on a 1996 VH1/Vogue Fashion Awards character Stiller created with writer-producer Drake Sather.

That’s about as far as this skit should have been taken. I tried to laugh, I really did. But all I could think about is how in the world this movie made it to the surface. Someone should have buried ... no, wait, cremated the script.

The plot is engaging enough, and it even takes a political and moral poke at the fashion industry and its embarrassing connection to Third World sweatshops. The movie opens up with a new prime minister being elected in Malaysia. He is progressive and wants to raise wages and end child labor — both serious threats to garment industry sweat shops. The shady (but ridiculously looking) fashion designer, Mugatu (“Saturday Night Live’s” Will Ferrell), is recruited (by an “X-Files consortium” of fashion moguls) to assassinate the Malaysian do-gooder.

But Mugatu is not one to get his hands dirty, nor does his I.Q. dip below the moronic. In order to kill the Malaysian prime minister, one must be dim-witted. Stupidity is a prime assassin requisite (although the viewer is never told why) and there’s no one better than Derek Zoolander.

For example, when Derek’s shown a model of a literary center to be built in his honor, he throws it on the floor, declaring: “This is a center for ants! How can we teach children to read if they can’t even fit inside the building?” Or when someone confesses to having altercations with bulimia, he asks: “You can read minds?”

Those were my two allotted laughs; the rest were either confused titters or feigned giggles in an attempt to lure my partner into watching the debacle onscreen. I didn’t want to feel like the only sucker in the house.

No such luck.

Derek, of course, falls for the dupe, and before you could say, “what’s on the other channel?” he is hypnotized to kill the Malaysian leader. In the meantime, we’re subjected to a vacuous romance between Derek and New York Times Reporter Matilda Jeffries (shame on you, Christine Taylor), as well as a subplot involving Derek’s nemesis, Hansel (Owen Wilson doing his best to buoy a sinking comedy).

At the beginning of the movie, Hansel takes the model of the year crown from Derek, sending our hero into a fugue state that can only be solved by ... well, you’re just going to have to brave the movie to find out.

All is not lost. There are cameos by big names, which dilutes the annoyances. Believe me, the cameos help. It’s almost like seeing a familiar face at a very lame party full of strangers. John Voight is great as Derek’s coal-mining dad, and David Bowie does a stint as the fashion awards presenter. Furthermore, the use of cheap labor is evident since Ben strategically plants his whole family in the picture. Jerry Stiller (Ben’s dad) works wonders with the seedy fashion mogul, Maury Ballstein (this name actually made me laugh for a third time), and Anne Meara (mom) and Amy Stiller (sister) make brief appearances.

I understand what Stiller was trying to do. The fashion industry has a shocking resume of using child labor, and Stiller tactfully morphs an ethical conundrum into a high-profile parody. But, it only looks good on paper. “Zoolander’s” moral cleverness trips over the stupidity and falls flat before the film reaches the halfway mark.

Maybe the humor is just above me ... or somewhere in the depths below me. Perhaps I could watch it (no chance) a couple more times to really get a feel.

I enjoy brainless movies, really I do. But it’s almost like “Zoolander” tries too hard to be stupid. If I need to feel irritated by fashion, I can spend a day braving the harsh elements of the “Gap” or its seedy cousin, “The Structure.” All I wanted was a cheap laugh, and instead I got flashbacks to tight collars and pressed shirts.

(Hunter Pope can be reached at w.h.pope@worldnet.att.net)