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February 13, 2007

Fug The Cheerleader, Fug The World

Continuing on the theme of people we love to like and hate to fug, Hayden Panettiere is delightful on Heroes. Her hair always looks very healthy and pretty, she's a very talented actress, and she's been doing this since she was a  single-digit age and still somehow manages not to be headed down Cokehead Alley. Maybe she's just better at hiding it than many of her Young Hollywood brethren, but regardless, she doesn't give us a reason to worry that we will have to petition for her to go to rehab after she, say, leaves a club with some human dumptruck like Brandon Davis and falls vulva-over-teakettle into the gutter, giving all of us a vulgar window into her private cavern. Thanks for that, Hayden.

And at first, I thought, "Well, everything seems to be in order with this outfit -- move along; nothing to see here." I mean, yeah, it's a tad beachy for New York in winter, but we certainly saw barer outfits during Fashion Week (to the girl who wore short-shorts with bare legs and a tank top: There is nothing about you that we understand). So we were prepared to give a cursory scroll through the other photos and then move along.

Sigh. We should've guessed it wouldn't be that simple.

Pants. PANTS. She just had to pair it with pants.

Our general pro-pants stance is well documented, but so is our powerful aversion to putting them under dresses. This whole outfit perfectly captures the vicious cycle of the whole dress-over-pants debate: If it's balmy enough to wear that on top, why do you need the trousers? And if it's cold enough to need the trousers -- which it WAS, by the way, because as it turns out an "arctic blast" is both arctic and a blast of bone-chilling wind -- then WHY are you sporting them with a dress that belongs out on the sunny lanai with a pitcher of iced tea and Blanche Devereaux? Wool coats be damned -- you need arm coverage in that kind of weather. I don't care if you have a car waiting for you downstairs; you have to layer, and we don't just mean by throwing a poor helpless pair of pants under a sundress. Have you ever investigated sleeves, my dear girl? Remember, Hayden: Sweaters aren't just for Bill Cosby any more.

Posted by Heather at 01:05 PM | Permalink

 

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