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February 27, 2007

Oscar Fug Carpet: Jennifer Hudson

Oh, what a journey it's been for Jennifer Hudson.  I'm not talking about her journey from American Idol to the Oscars or whatever. I'm talking about the journey through fug that she took on the night of the Academy Awards.

See, according to Page Six, her stylist Jessica Paster "got her a beautiful gold Roberto Cavalli custom-made," but Vogue's Andre Leon Talley, who's been helping style her as well, allegedly had a fit when he heard about the Cavalli and made her wear his choice.  This:

Because a girl totally wants to look like she's wearing something that might have been spotted in the background of the Thriller video on the biggest night of her life.  She also totally wants to have the hem of her shorty bolero hit her at the widest spot of her chest, making her look way bigger than she actually is. Oh, also? If she could find a color that totally makes her look washed out and boring? That'd be great.  What's up with ALT?  Did Anna Wintour crack him over the head with a thigh-high boot during a confrontation at the office, thereby knocking the chic out of his head? Did spending a lot of time with Jennifer Hudson lead him to secretly, passionately hate her, thereby leading to this act of sabotage? Does he really just love lame?

But J Hud -- good for her -- managed to pull it together over the course of the evening, working it first in the red dress she performed in, and then changing into what I assume is the Cavalli for both the press room and the after-parties:

So much better, no? This is what she should have worn to walk the red carpet. She looks awesome in this. The brown number might have been more comfortable, sure, but you put on something LESS formal for the after-parties, right? Like, when I was in high school, we all put on flannel shirts over our prom dresses for the after-party so we could be comfortable while we talked about how totally rad Pearl Jam was. We didn't wear the flannel to the prom itself. Not to mention the fact that I think it's kind of insane to change for the party -- are people shimmying into and out of things in the limo? Because that seems like a lot of work for an evening where you should have started out the night looking your best, anyway. Not like an extra from a long-shuttered Star Wars musical. Not that I blame J Hud for that fiasco, entirely - when you're in Oscar de la Renta with Andre Leon Talley and they're telling you that the cropped shiny thing is the way to go, you probably figure they know what they're talking about. But let this be a lesson to us all. When your instincts tell you to reject a tin-foil cardigan, listen to them, or find yourself telling the limo driver to avert his eyes from your Spanx.

Posted by Jessica at 02:10 PM in Oscars | Permalink

Oscar Fug Carpet: Meryl Streep

Meryl Steep is, as we have said again and again in this space, awesome in so many ways. She is, of course, a great actress. She seems like she would be fun to socialize with. We still want her to adopt Lindsay Lohan, but she should feel free to add Britney Spears to that list, if she likes. But, girl, what is the deal with this?

She's giving us her blessings, which means a lot  as she is apparently some sort of high priestess or shaman-type-person judging from the holy vestments she's working. 

Posted by Jessica at 01:25 PM in Oscars | Permalink

Oscar Post-Party Pregnancy Rumor-Mongering: Sarah Michelle Gellar

Today, apparently, has inadvertently become the day that I squint at my computer screen and ask the people on the TV if SoandSo looks pregnant to them. So far, none of them -- not Martha, nor Amanda Woodward, nor anyone on The Hills -- has answered me. But in this case, I don't think I need outside confirmation:

I mean, am I right? SMG totally has a Prinze, Jr. Jr. in there, right? Because, while no one is a bigger fan of the comfort and ease of the Floaty Waistless Goddess Tunic than I am, this particular dress really only works if you've got something to hide. So let's all send a hearty pre-confirmation congrats to Smidge and her man: their child will surely be quite cute, and will probably be able to kick my ass before kindergarten.

Posted by Jessica at 12:32 PM | Permalink

Oscar Post-Party Fug Carpet: Rose McGowan

It's not so much the outfit we have a problem with; given Rose McGowan's history, we're just lucky we aren't being treated to a full moon, so to speak. No, our issue here is, sadly, with Rose's face. Why is she styling herself in the image of the older, squintier, and frequently less moisturized Teri Hatcher? It's alarming. It doesn't even look like Rose. Maybe this is where we find out that years ago, back when she was manning his flesh puppet, she sold her blood to Marilyn Manson for use in a devil-summoning ceremony, and her payback is premature Hatchulation. Let that be a lesson to you, kids: Don't give Marilyn Manson any of your bodily fluids. Are you listening, Evan Rachel Wood?

Posted by Heather at 11:34 AM in Oscars | Permalink

Oscar Post-Party Pregnancy Rumor-Mongering: Katie Holmes

Though I am loathe to start rumors, and don't want to be one of those people who is all, "THAT TOP IS TOTALLY BLOUSE-Y! SHE MUST BE KNOCKED UP!", would you not agree that Katie Holmes appears to be conversing with a currently fetus-sized, bodily-contained  little Cruiselette here?

"Don't worry," she seems to be saying, "soon we'll be inside, where there are shrimps on skewers." I don't really think she's pregnant again, but there's something about all the layers on this number -- which I was neutral on until I spent some hard time with it, back when I was trying to figure out it she was bump-ified, but which I've since decided that I actually rather like, despite the fact that it somewhat resembles fantastically glamorous window treatments in the bedroom of a spectacularly pampered, quite beautiful, but generally aggravating baroness -- that implies she's got something uterine going on.

It's less apparent in some of the other photos, like this one:

Which is notable for me, mostly, because it's sort of sweet to watch Tom Cruise seemingly pleased to see Katie get all the media attention while he stands off to the side. I don't know, maybe they're both brainwashed. Did anyone think of THAT? In fact, I just thought of it myself.  (PS: I'm sure the Scientologists have never brainwashed anyone.) If so, maybe it's wearing off a bit, because she's back in the heels and he appears to have gotten his hair cut by a licensed professional rather than a mail-order sucking device. And for that, I'd like to congratulate him.

And maybe congratulations are in order for other reasons. The night prior to the Oscars, Katie attended an event hosted by Giorgio Armani, wearing another suspiciously draped bit:

Which I actually think is adorable on her. Seriously, say what you will about her relationship with Cruise and how you hardly ever see cute little Suri and how handsome Josh Jackson is looking these days (what? He really is), but the girl generally looks beautifully turned out, and I'd love to hear what she and Mr Armani are chortling about. I suspect it involves Posh.

Okay, and now that I've said all these nice things about her, let's tell everyone that she's got a bun in the oven and Mr. Armani is the father. Go!

Posted by Jessica at 10:40 AM in Oscars | Permalink

Oscar Post-Party Fug: Lauren Hutton

Oh, Lauren Hutton. Even when you try not to be nuttier than a pecan pie, you still can't help yourself.

Even though your skirt looks like an enormous cartoon fish vomiting up its own membranes, we appreciate that you deviated from the Shaman of Ojai vibe you projected in 2006 -- which you shouldn't have loaned to Meryl Streep, but let's not digress. The effort at dressing up did not go unnoticed; it's just a shame you dumped ketchup all over your front and had to cover it with a ladies' seafoam stretch tee from Talbot's.

The whole experience must have been incredibly traumatic. If we'd been through it, we surely wouldn't have brushed our hair, either.

Posted by Heather at 09:25 AM in Oscars | Permalink

Oscar Fug Carpet: Kelly Preston

"Hi! Listen, we haven't talked in a while -- not since that whole "Scientology rocks!" thing, really, huh? I guess you didn't find that so amusing. Which is fine, although I should point out that nothing brings back your sense of humor like a nice, thorough auditing. It's fun! It's like a colonic for your SOUL. Anyway, I know you guys have been wondering a lot of things, like why John's hair looked like he glued Dick Clark's scalp to his own, or why John was allowed to participate in Wild Hogs on my watch. Seriously, though, do you think I could've stopped it? Johnny is so light-hearted and free -- nothing would keep him from a freeing nude romp in the wilderness. He once told me he likes to live every day like he's in A Room With A View, and who am I to stop that? But, if you must know, I totally wasn't even around. See, on a Church mission, I was dispatched to live a fun double-life as the arm-candy to a New Jersey drug mogul who's been squiring me around the mall social scene, with occasional side trips to his giant Miami-based yacht, "The Tom Cruiser." I suggested the name; can you tell? Anyhoo, were having a gay old time -- I was telling Mr. Yacht all about L. Ron and soul colonics -- and then, poof! Suddenly I remembered I was supposed to go with John to the Oscars. I didn't even have time to change out of my animal print. I just hopped a plane and met him on the red rug. So, you see, I wasn't really around to stop him from his biker mid-life crisis fantasy flick, but with Norbit sucking all the joy out of Eddie Murphy's life, I don't think anyone even noticed Wild Hogs, and anyway, it's William H. Macy who looks the most desperate to pay his tithes -- er, I mean, his rent. But I'm back in town now and I promise I'll do what I can to make sure John doesn't publicly straddle anything for a while. Deal? Deal! Now, does anyone have some AquaNet? My hair's not NEARLY big enough."

Posted by Heather at 08:28 AM in Oscars | Permalink

Oscar Fug Carpet: Well Played, Maggie Gyllenhaal

Let it never be said that we are unable to change our tune if the song we've been singing goes off key. In this case, the old saw "Maggie Gyllenhaal, What The Hell Are You Wearing?" has suddenly gone totally off the rails:

That is awesome, and I love it.  All her everything is in the right place and she looks appropriately formal without looking predictable or prom-y. The navy and the black are chic, but she still -- refreshingly -- looks sort of  unusual without giving the impression that she picked up her outfit at the Hipster One-Stop Irony-In-Dressing Shoppe.  Also, Peter Saarsgaaaaaaaarrrddd is rocking his best  "Sure, There's Something About Me That's Mildly Threatening, But You Think It's Hot, Don't You?"  Which is an excellent accessory, I think.

Posted by Jessica at 07:09 AM in Maggie Gyllenhaal, Oscars, Well Played | Permalink

February 26, 2007

Oscar Fug Carpet: Nicole Kidman

It's great that Nicole Kidman decided to wear a color this year, instead of her usual white or flesh-tone, which only serve to remind us all how bland and dull she is these days. However, listen up, Nic:

a) We wish you were still a deeper redhead;

b) We're very sorry that you only came upon this dress because you were recently, tragically near-decapitated while ironing the life and moisture out of your hair, and needed an outfit that would help hold your head atop your neck;

c) Seriously, please, Nicole, bring back the red hair, because it will help you look more alive;

d) Consider doing some sympathy-eating with your pregnant pal Naomi Watts, because if you lose any more weight, you will be able to slip through the space between closed doors and the doorjambs, and your husband might resent that loss of privacy;

e) Try not to have your head lopped off again any time soon, okay? You can't wear choking, constrictive neck-bows to everything. Isn't that why your hubby Keith rarely strays from wearing his shirts unbuttoned to his sternum?

f) Stop with the Botox. [Hey, it had to be said.] If you aren't careful, Naomi's baby will mistake you for a doll it can drag around everywhere by the arm, and that is rarely an enjoyable way to pass the time.

Thank you. Have a nice day. Although make no mistake, we're still in a bit of a fight over Bewitched -- I'm not going to get over that one for a while, Nic, and you're just going to have to wait it out. Be sure to tell Michael Caine that he's not off the hook, either, okay? Just because my father faintly resembles him, he thinks he can get away with anything. Not so, faux-Dad. Not so.

Posted by Heather at 04:44 PM in Oscars | Permalink

Oscar Fug Carpet: Anne Hathaway

At least I can think of one nice thing to say about Anne Hathaway's enormous black bow.

Just kidding. I totally can't. It's huge and it's glaring at me. It is as if one of Sarah Ferguson's famed hair-bows from the late 1980s went rogue from her storage trunks and attacked Anne on the red carpet, resulting in a giant Dark Mark of Shame that's tagging her for impending doom. What's more, it's hitting her body where the dress is the least flattering to it, and all I can think of is, "Surely SOMEONE could have loaned her a body-shaper." Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled she walks among the living -- the normal, flesh-carrying ladies of the world -- but, honey, there's no shame in getting a little help under your lace-curtain gown. And with a massive, angry black bow dragging your chest down to your navel, you need all the extra help you can get.

At least it's not bigger.... wait a second, that's a compliment, right? So what if it's so backhanded you can practically see the marks from my knuckles imprinted on it as I whipped my hand across its inky folds. At least the bow isn't devouring her entire body. Phew! I did have a nice thing to say. The dress didn't make a liar out of me. My mother will be so proud.

Posted by Heather at 03:01 PM in Oscars | Permalink


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