July 31, 2006
There are lots of ways for an actor to battle persistent gay rumors, should he choose to do so: showing up at a variety of locales with beautiful, busty women; going on Stern to talk about how much he LOVES banging the ladies; floating the rumor that he's allegedly sleeping with his co-star; and, finally, Hayden Christensen's more subtle approach -- appearing in public in something no self-respecting homosexual would ever, ever wear:
We suspect his People Magazine cover will read, "Yes, I Have No Taste."
Posted by Jessica at 03:59 PM | Permalink
There's something about Kim Stewart's short dress/long shirt, cap-haphazardly-plonked-on- potentially-unwashed-hair, and mildly inappropriate shoes combo that reeks of the Walk of Shame, this Walk apparently occurring after a particularly crazy outing that ended in the utter destruction of her jeans, possibly at the fiery hands of a rogue tiki torch, or the malodorous trauma of getting vomited on:
Not that that's ever happened to us.
Posted by Jessica at 07:57 AM | Permalink
July 28, 2006
Random Fug:Sophia Hyatt
Witness Sophia Hyatt. Google tells me that she is a "British Pakistani celebrity," and a "sexy Indian hottie." I am not exactly sure WHY she is a celebrity in the UK, but she is very pretty.
It may take you by surprise, however, to discover that I am not crazy about her outfit:
One of my basic rules of thumb is that, whatever you wear, you should make sure that it a) fits and b) covers your bits. And I mean that in the most fundamental way: this is not a screed against halter tops or mini-skirts or even (for once) shorts. I just mean that a mantilla is not a gown, and no one really wants to see your panties. This dress does not look alluring, nor does it make our Sexy Indian Hottie look like a mysterious flamenco dancer, or even like a contender for a role in Zorro 3: Zeta-Jones Doesn't Do Straight To Video. It makes her look like she forgot part of her outfit.
In fact, it reminds me of something I once read on the subject of etiquette, which was that rules for social behavior don't exist to control people, but rather to make everyone feel comfortable. I think we've all been in a situation where, say, you're eating a cheeseburger at Hamburger Habit and the sun is shining and the birds are singing and the boy you like called you and your skinny jeans fit and all is right in the world. And you look at the table across from you, and a woman is sitting there in too tight low-rise jeans and SERIOUSLY? You can see her entire butt and thong. And I guarantee you what happens next: every girl at your table reaches back to make sure that her own derriere hasn't made a break for it, everyone then quietly wonders if she can't feel the draft, and then everyone can't stop looking at her thong, but not in a hot way. In, like, a "should I TELL her that her thong is hanging out, or is she doing that on purpose?" kind of way. And then she leaves and everyone is relived.
So save us some social angst, ladies who like to flash your panties on purpose, and cut it out. Because of you, none of us know whether or not the girl at Hamburger Habit is thonging it up on purpose or not, and therefore, we are unable to decide if it would be sisterly to hand her a sweater to tie around her waist, or if that would insult her. And all we really wanted was a cheeseburger.
Posted by Jessica at 10:34 AM | Permalink
July 27, 2006
Scrolldown Fug: Mindy Kaling
The Office is one of my favorite shows, and Mindy Kaling -- like everyone else -- is great on it. But I wonder if being on a show that rarely seems to shoot you from further away than three-quarters distance starts to get to you. Maybe you wear slippers every day at work with your costume, because you know nobody will see them, and you might as well be comfortable. And as somebody who's tortured her feet many a time in the name of wearing cute shoes that nobody actually cares about except me... well, I can respect that.
Except for when you start forgetting that life itself doesn't play out in a series of mid-shots.
From the knees up, she looks adorable, all set for a divine NBC-Universal booze cruise of clenched-teeth joy, where every toast to their wonderful fall schedule comes with paranoia from Jeff Zucker that people will figure out they've swapped the costly champagne and top-shelf liquor with well booze and sparkling cider.
But her shoes are pure "local theater revival of Xanadu." They look like she stapled wallpaper scraps to her ankles.
Come to think of it, though, a Xanadu revival is a pretty spectacular idea. There are not enough Xanadu tribues these days. Maybe next season on The Office, Michael can arrange an office production of it figuring that he'll get cast as the romantic lead. But of course when Dwight gets in there as the director, he puts, say, Kevin and Angela in the Michael Beck and Olivia Newton-John roller-skating lovebird roles, ousts Michael from the Gene Kelly part at the last minute because he found actual Michael Beck working at 20/20 Video and got him to come guest-star, and then forces all the other men in the office to dress up as the other muses during the opening number. And as the men all stand around in their dresses and bizarre, geometric, occasionally phallic hairstyles awaiting their time on stage, the whole thing falls apart because Dwight flies into a jealous snit when Kevin and Angela rehearse the roller-disco dance of love. Phyllis ends up in the part when they eventually perform at the local nursing home. And Michael forces Dwight to add a scene where he performs an intepretive dance solo while burning Mindy Kaling's brown boots of shame.
Okay, so the plan needs work. But the basic principles -- up with Xanadu, down with wallpaper shoes -- are still solid.
Posted by Heather at 12:41 PM | Permalink
A Fug Affair
Back in the day, I had a cute little terry cloth romper like the one Jessica Simpson is wearing here on TRL:
Mine was blue, and I wore it every summer when my best friend Cheri and I went to her parents' time share in Laguna. Usually I wore it over my bathing suit, which was a neon pink and black striped one piece, accessorized by giant pink buttons. I did not wear it with giant wedges, but rather with flip flops, because it's hard to run through sand in wedges. It was 1982, and I was seven years old.
I hope the reappearance of the romper means that other items I rocked back in second grade are going to come back, like Osh Kosh B'Gosh overalls or suspenders modeled on those Mork from Ork wore on Mork and Mindy. Because if nothing else, it'll give us tons of material here at GFY.
Posted by Jessica at 11:20 AM | Permalink
July 26, 2006
Fug In The City
"... Yeah, boss? I have Kim Cattrall here, trying to leave the store... No, no, she's not shoplifting anything, I have her receipts in my hand. But the issue is that she's wearing an orange newsboy cap. ... No, it doesn't really match her dress. ... Hmm, I'd say it's like a soft white, with polka dots and some odd formations that look like palm-tree tops, or like clumps of those shavings from a Magna Doodle... I liked Magna Doodle, too, sir, but in my opinion, Etch-A-Sketch was the more satisfying user experience... Oh, well, sure, obviously, but Lite Brite isn't really the same type of thing as Etch-A-Sketch, so that's really an apples-to-oranges comparison. ... Anyway, sir, the problem is, she's wearing this orange hat and she's trying to go out into the wild that way, and it is pretty ridiculous, for sure... Yeah, we're on the cameras, take a look. ... Heh, the lead shavings do sort of look like back hair... Should I allow her to leave? ... No, that's true, Samantha Jones probably wouldn't want her memory tarnished in this manner... Okay, thanks, boss -- where should we stash her? Stockroom 5? Great. I'm on break in 2 minutes so I'll lock her up then."
Posted by Heather at 11:15 AM | Permalink
Oh my God!
Elisha Cuthbert clearly has The Dreaded Shrinks, as so artfully chronicled in The Twits, my favorite Roald Dahl book. (It's very, very mean.) According to Dahl, when you have the shrinks, "your head SHRINKS into your neck...and your neck SHRINKS into your body...and your body SHRINKS into your legs...and your legs SHRINK into your feet. And in the end there's nothing left except a pair of shoes and a bundle of old clothes."
I mean, that explains why everything she's wearing looks so big on her, right?
Posted by Jessica at 09:54 AM | Permalink
July 25, 2006
Lady in the Fug
There's so much I like about Bryce Dallas Howard. For one thing, I covet her red hair. (I love red hair and have longed for it since that week in 1986 when Fergie married Prince Andrew, and I just also happened to be reading Anne of Green Gables. This perhaps explains part of why I am so inexplicably in love with Lindsay Lohan.) I appreciate the fact that she's unconventionally attractive. I think that, after two plus years of looking for photos celebrities, I've become much more appreciative of an actress who still looks like herself, rather than someone who's been created in the BriteSmileHairExtensionsMysticTan Labs.
But there is something here that's just not right:
That color is usually nice on someone with her coloring, and I think that holds true, but there's just something about this that's very Mother of the Bride. It's so square -- both, you know, geometrically, and also in the sense of being overly staid. BDH has a lovely figure, but like a lot of us, I think she would benefit from something a little more structured, and the obi-esque waist bit makes her, I think, look a little more rectangular than she actually is. It also looks like it's attached with Velcro: there's something about the edge of the belt-thing that makes me want to grab it and rip it open. Not to, like, nudify her, but just because it looks like it would rip open in a satisfying, Velcro-y way.
Call me crazy (cue: "YOU'RE CRAZY, HO!"), but I don't think that's what she was going for.
Posted by Jessica at 11:51 AM | Permalink
July 24, 2006
Parminder Nagra is gorgeous.
Which is why I wish heartily that she hadn't gone and upholstered herself:
Her body looks tense, as if she's uncomfortable or uneasy in this confusing crosshatched fabric-store nightmare. I suspect it's because no one expects the Spanish Inquisition -- you have to maintain constant vigilence when you're dressed as something resembling a Comfy Chair, because you risk being dragged unexpectedly into their brand of comfortable torture. From there it's a short slide down to poking some old woman with the soft cushions and wondering, "How did this become my life?"
It's a cautionary tale, really. Upholstery: Don't let it happen to you.
Posted by Heather at 04:44 PM | Permalink
My fascination with Keira Knightley's odd fashion choices continues apace -- and no, in this case, I'm not referring to the greasy-haired accessory on camera-left.
It's one thing to cut open the closed end of a pillowcase, belt it, and call it a summer minidress, but it's quite another level of fug creativity altogether when you find a way for the belt itself to double as a bra, then stroll out of the house with cute shoes and a hot red clutch as if you didn't have the entire stability of your outfit riding on one potentially shifty piece of leather.
I almost want to pat her on the back. In the global sport that fashion lunacy has become, this is almost certainly a medalworthy performance in the Fuglympics. It puts the "bra" in "bravo."
Posted by Heather at 06:16 AM | Permalink