|Behold, budding (sequined!) life.|
But this dress is not my favorite.
It's a nice shape, and fits well. The empire waist is perfect for showing off her delicate condition. The color is flattering. It's the rose appliqué that trips me up. It's jarring. It's like Ed Hardy shot a tee-shirt cannon at Grace Kelly.
I can't decide what would make it better, so I'm just going to conclude that infinity simply tires of humping Pi from time to time.
Okay, now for the rest. Let's start with some pretty things.
Olivia Wilde was the first one on the red carpet, violating the Law of Gutt, which dictates that only D-list has-beens show up two hours early . And behold! She looked lovely in a sort of ombre homage to the solar system.
Silk--or velvet, or whatever that is--can go oh so wrong, but the deep neckline, retro ruffled sleeves, and elegant hue prevent Tina Fey's look from being a lemon.
Even though this Vera Wang is distractingly crinkly, Sofia Vergara rocks it--the silhouette is perfect on her. But my favorite thing about this picture is the background women dressed like wildlife. If only David Attenborough could narrate the red carpet...
"The Colombian bombshell stops in her tracks, her bosoms heaving beneath the constrictive armor of Spanx. Her eyes go wild. She senses an ill-fitting leopard-print jumpsuit in the brush nearby..."
Oh, Michelle. If only life were as simple as gunny sacks and daisies.
And Julianne! WTF? Why did you feel the need to desecrate a perfectly nice gown with a single Members Only jacket sleeve? If you had just listened to the right side of your body, everything would have been fine. See?
|The twin Doris Roberts doppelgangers approve!|
Hey, look, it's circa-1989 Elaine Benes, wearing something from the J. Peterman catalogue:
The good doctor got onto his bicycle after ingesting what he estimated to be a threshold dose of LSD. He would have driven, but the use of motor vehicles was prohibited due to of wartime restrictions, so he started to pedal home, through fields of sun-dappled bluebonnets that seemed to swell and hum as he passed.
It got bad as he rounded a bend near the riverbed, and when his spinster neighbor came into view, offering desiccated heels of bread to a blind pigeon, he shrieked and fell off of his Schwinn, believing her to be a malevolent witch.
“Your shoes are two different colors!” he cried as he began to lick a patch of yellow grass. “Your bosom is lined with crow’s feathers!”
The sheriff was called and the doctor was escorted the rest of the way home, where he was fed a supper of broth laced with strong sedatives. But before his wife could wrangle him into his pajamas, he snatched a notebook from his desk and locked himself in the pantry.
When he emerged six weeks later, he brought the urine-stained pages to the local dressmaker and filed a letter of resignation with the hospital.
The Blind Pigeon silk and tulle gown (No. 2894).
Women’s sizes: 2 through 18.
And look, here's Tilda Swinton, looking like a Creamsicle wrapped in an enigma sprinkled with some albino Carolina Herrera.
And she's winking! How whimsical! Perhaps she's communicating with the mother ship.
Green was a big trend this year, but unfortunately so was static cling-like crotchal bunching.
|The boobs truly are the curtains to the soul.|