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June 14, 2006

Fugga Knightley

For me, belts might just be the new leggings. At least with leggings, there is a purpose: to imitate the form and function of pants, without all the confusing zippers and buttons (so hard when you're high!). And a belt can have meaning, when it's required to keep your trousers from thundering down around your ankles, but nobody uses them for that noble end any longer. Now, belts are just there for sport. They're constrictive, and they're meaningless, like wearing a watch without a battery. The rules for owning and operating one in today's celebrity society: Locate a belt that is mismatched with what you're wearing, find the part of your outfit that least benefits from being cinched -- bonus points if it is deeply unflattering to your figure -- and install as directed.

What's most delicious about this photo is that Keira is actually wearing pants that could use a little help staying up over her bony hips. A shame, too, because you know what they say: An idle belt is the devil's workshop. As such, it'll be a sad for Keira Knightley when Satan bursts forth from her abdomen like an Alien re-enactment. But I guess that's what you get, eh? And at least when it happens, it has a shot at destroying the odd Flashdance shirt/ratty quasi-cardigan combo she's trying to rock with the pin-striped pants. She is all about the fugly, needless hoo-ha these days.

Posted by Heather at 11:40 AM | Permalink

 

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