December 14, 2006
Fuggy-Fug Fugley Olsen
Lest you had forgotten that they are two and not one, the Olsen twins are doggedly continuing in their quest to look as different as possible after all those years of being "Mary-Kate Ashley Olsen" -- an era that began with them being so literally interchangeable that I thought for a long time it was just one actress with a pretentious name.
Ashley has chosen understated clothes, an air of impermeable ennui, and a brunette 'do that I actually rather like; it makes her eyes pop, and after all those years of that fried-looking blond mop, it gives her a welcome sleekness. [Jessica isn't so sure about it, though; she thinks it's blah, and she's not really wrong either. It's kind of all of those things mixed into one. We were going to arm-wrestle to settle this score once and for all, but I am afraid it would be a rout; like George Costanza [edited to note that it might be Monica Gellar, actually... but they're very similar so the confusion is understandable], she is inhumanly strong, and also, her family's mutant power is that they are all really good at arm-wrestling. I think they should pitch an Over The Top sequel. I will make a cameo as the toothless regular who licks her chops at the idea of toppling this clan of upstarts, only to get my ass beaten with a quickness. At which point I will upend the table and speak only in grunts until I'm thrown out of the establishment. Look for it in theaters next fall -- it'll be Oscar bait.]
As pleasant a digression as that was, let's swing back on-topic. I'll hand it to the less-tragic Olsen -- she is very good at choosing outfits that are slightly unusual, and pulling them off anyway. She looks a bit like she's just come from her job as a D.A., but it works, especially with the adorable shoes.
Her twin's divergent direction is, in my estimation, somewhat less successful.
Mary-Kate prefers costuming herself as the Russian mail-order bride of an old heavyset man named Bud, who showed up to claim her at the airport with a wilted bouquet of daisies, a packet of beef jerky, coffee and beer stains on the undershirt that showed beneath his torn sportcoat, and a genuine imitation cubic zirconia rock that he got in a box of Lucky Charms. He will then whisk her away to the most middling suite available at the Sahara in Las Vegas and make an honest, frightened woman out of her.
It's a sad story. Maybe if she'd stuck with her sister, which got her pretty far in life if you think about it, this wouldn't have happened. Although it also sounds like Oscar bait, so she could also turn this to her advantage. So, Mary-Kate, you have two options: run to your manager, or just run.