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March 30, 2007

Phoebe Fugs

Few celebrities have escaped the wrath of GFY over the course of the almost three years that we have been writing this site.  People we like, people we don't like: All are at risk. There is, however, one group that we have, to this point, ignored.  Here in Los Angeles there is a group of people (mostly women) who attend almost every event, from premieres to charity functions to the opening of a shoe store. These women are photographed. And we have no idea who they are. Literally. They're not studio or television or music executives. They may claim to be "actresses" or "models" but they've never appeared in anything notable, nor do they have a string of non-notable credits. If they do have credits, usually they're consistently playing something like "Girl #3." Sometimes they appeared in Playboy once, but not necessarily. They're not married to any one notable, as far as we can tell. We really don't know how they're getting invited to anything, why they're being photographed, or how they're making the money that allows them to keep up with their Botox schedule. They are a mystery, that, until now, we have basically ignored, primarily because no one knows who they are. But the time has come for us to break our silence.

The leader of this group -- in our minds, since I don't even know that this mysterious group of taut ladies even know each other -- is Phoebe Price.  And while we have been silent on the subject of Miss Price for many, many months, at last she has broken us. We can keep our mouths shut no longer. Thanks to this:

"That's not even that BAD," you say. "Maybe she didn't know it was sheer!" Oh, sweet reader.  It IS that bad, and she DID know it was sheer. Let us continue to explore the Kinda Naked All Tacky world of Phoebe Price after the jump (some of these are only Moderately Safe for Work):

The back of the Outfit That Broke Our Silence:

Oh, you coy minx! WE CAN SEE YOUR ASS. That's just....listen, our views on underwear are pretty cut and dried. Wear underwear. WEAR IT UNDER THINGS. It's IN THE NAME.   Going out in a sheer cover-up over your THONG is just TACKY and DESPERATE.

However, this is a woman whose photoshoots (which she appears to release to image houses in case...we need them? I don't know) look generally like this one:

Who DOESN'T roll around in a crocheted hoodie scarf and nothing else? There's a reason that you can't spell "crochet" without "crotch."

And now that the floodgates are open, we can't stop ourselves from abusing your retinas with P Squared's heinous fashion crimes of the past. Like this one, at Cannes:

I enjoy how bemused the photographers appear.  They are all like, "Oh la la! Look at zees one! Her ass! You can zee it right through her drezz! Americaines! Zhey are so tasteless! Where iz my baguette?" Because that's how French photogs talk, don't you think? They wouldn't have been as surprised had they gotten a gander at this earlier look:

Awesome. A snakeskin jumpsuit accessorized with Ima Kill You, Bitch gloves. This is straight out of the wardrobe bin on Dynasty labeled "For Alexis's Tacky Rival (Waterproof)." 

While the following was out of the bin marked "Sexy Mermaids," a bin which is right between "Hot Medusa" and "Trampy Unicorns," all three of which are slated to go out with the next load of recycling:

My darlings, these are merely the tip of the iceberg. Look at what we have spared you! We care about your eyes and your souls, dear readers. We want you around for the long haul -- we want you to be able to procrastinate at work in good health! -- and we couldn't inflict these items on you in good conscience. Until now. Because clearly, with The Thong On Parade, this situation has gone from being something we could all pretend wasn't happening to a real crisis. And forewarned is forearmed. So consider yourselves warned: Phoebe Price is out there, and she is going to assault your eyeballs.

Posted by Jessica at 01:12 PM | Permalink


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