Monday, January 14, 2013

2013 Golden Globes Fashion Throwdown, Part I

January is the month of SADs. Seasonal Affective Disorder. Secret Afternoon Drinking. Sudden Arm-fat Discovery. Slippers All Day.

I'm actually wearing my bunny slippers right now, along with ill-fitting jeggings and a maternity tank top, so let me say up front that writing this particular post is like lobbing boulders underhand from my ramshackle glass house. Still, it's a great joy to be able to take break from my busy pants-avoiding schedule to critique celebrity outfits. So let's get started!

First, I want to get anything nice I have to say out of the way quickly. I think we can all agree that the best way to do this is in poetry form:
At this year's Golden Globes, some stars chose well.
Eschewing droopy boobs/
Distasteful nudes;
Like Claire Danes, Kristen Wiig, and Zooey Deschanel--
Or my future BFF Adele.
Others were simply screwed;
I must be rude!
As so many dresses begged the question, what the fuck what the hell?                                  
-Undated bitchy fashion sonnet, William Shakespeare
I noticed a few troubling trends this year, trends that went beyond my normal complaints about gowns the color of waterlogged Band-Aids, or the ill-advised placement of enormous ass bows.

Like, if I had to choose a theme for this year's red carpet style choices, it would be "Teen Mother of the Bride."

Exhibit A: The fact that when I first saw Lena Dunham, my first thought was, "Wow, Laurie Metcalf is looking kind of matronly these days."


And look, I LOVE Lena. I think she's gorgeous. And as much as I give props to Jessica McClintock for expanding her mall prom dress line to include funeral drapery, rich mahogany just doesn't look right on anyone but George Hamilton.

Exhibit B:


Despite my long-standing feud with Anne Hathaway, I will concede that she is beautiful, extremely talented, and seems very smart. But WHY, then, would she age herself several decades in this admittedly elegant but oddly boxy two piece? This is the evening wear equivalent of a tankini and Anne can do way better.

Naomi Watts also went dowdy-chic in a kind of droopy bordeaux (incidentally, the name of my future winery!)...


... while Rosario Dawson went as a Drunk Seahorse Bridesmaid.


Eh, you know what, she can come to my wedding. That bitch looks fun.

Speaking of which, you know who can do Mother of the Bride and not give a fuck?


Glenn Motherfucking Close, that's who. Respect.


The next category I'll call the Scroll Down Surprise. Take a gander at these three lovely ladies:

Lady Mary!
Lady Weisz!!
Lady Hamm!!!
 But then:




Why must designers continue to insist on creating these sartorial mullets? No one should have to utter sentences like, "No, I'm not actually wearing a cap sleeve midi-bolero; that's just a trompe l'oeil," or "It's like Fritz Lang's sexy Metropolis robot meets Grimace from McDonaldland." And seriously, WTF is up with Weisz's leg veil? What did her knees do?

To be continued tomorrow...
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6 comments :

  1. I didn't watch last night (mostly because I don't get NBC on my fancy bunny ear TV screen) so I"ve been on E! & shit looking at all the pics. Totally laughed at "evening wear equivalent of a tankini." Nailed it. I was unimpressed with just about everybody. It all seemed like dated prom attire. I was grossed out though by Nicole Richie. She reminded me of my old community college art "professor" who chained smoked clove cigarettes & had brown leather-y eyelids covered in pale blue eyeshadow. Or maybe it was her whole blue/brown outdated/over done color combination that was so popular in little boy nurseries. Either way, EW.

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  2. Ann Hathaway is now a Serious Actress. A serious actress must put away ass bows and turn to columnar tankinis. (I actually think she looked great, but that's no fun).

    My son has a children's book by Eric Carle about an aquatic stay-at-home dad named Mr. Seahorse. Maybe Drunk Seahorse Bridesmaid can be a character in the next book in the series.

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  3. There is a RULE, people! And that rule is: never wear maroon. Seriously. It's not even a real color. It's the color a violet $hits. In fact, I think we should re-name maroon "violet poop." Can I do that? (Hell, yeah! I'm fifty-two goddam years old! I can do whatever the fu%# I want! Maroon, I dub thee 'violet poop.' Let's see how THAT goes over in Hollyweird!)

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  4. Ah, the peekaboo knee veil. Very hot at Fredrick's of Hollywood this year, which, as you must know, is the go-to smutty, red-carpet lingerie fashion house to the stars.

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  5. I think the worst part of the fashion shitshow was watching Lena Dunham teeter and hobble her way through the mass of partygoers, not once but twice. She needs to wear heels NEVER.

    Glen Close stroking-out was the highlight of the night. Truth.

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