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January 10, 2008

Fug or Fab: Katie Holmes

Despite the presence of Diane Keaton and Queen Latifah, I do not have hopes for Katie Holmes' big return to the multiplex, Mad Money. Let us remember that as madcap comedies go, Diane Keaton recently brought us Because I Said So; Queen Latifah, we have not forgotten Taxi, which was a blight on our souls even though we didn't actually see anything more than the preview. So, neither of you can be trusted unequivocally in this arena, and when you add into the mix Mrs. Cruise and a poster where you're chucking money into the air like you're Mary Tyler Moore at a strip club, it bodes poorly.

Still, at least Katie Holmes is interesting to talk about these days. In all the years I watched Dawson's Creek, I never particularly thought Joey Potter would ever make me think. She would make me enraged, irritated, annoyed, and at times murderous -- between Dawson and Pacey, or anyone and Pacey, THE ANSWER IS ALWAYS PACEY, fool -- but never thoughtful. So I'll say this for the post-Cruise Katie: She has achieved what I thought was impossible. I am actually pondering her fashion choices with more than just passing interest.

First, let's start with what worked at the Mad Money premiere.

She looks amazing: I never noticed how interesting her eyes are before, and whoever has commandeered her makeup bag is doing a bang-up job. [Although, just to prove she is human, Katie has thoughtfully gone and gotten a stray hair stuck in her lipstick. I feel that pain, sister. It's the curse of almost every gloss-loving girl in the world who's ever wandered into even the lightest breeze.]

Also, let it be known that I blame Katie Holmes in advance for any bad hair decisions I might make. That bob is so cute that I am liable to forget my hair is completely different than hers is, and that's how I'll accidentally wind up with the poodle version of this sleek coif, and it will be ALL HER FAULT. I hope she can live with herself.

Now for the part I'm less sure of:

Silver is a great choice, and the textures are very unusual, at least in photographs. Still, between the bodice that gives her a touch of the Posh around her boobs -- you know, jammed in there, considering a northward escape -- and the elaborate stitching around the waist, I'm not sure I entirely love the effect.  Around her hips especially, it seems uneven and easily pulled out of place. Trying to figure out what's up with it, and whether she's digging into a pocket with her right hand or just trying surreptitiously to scrape some stray baby food off her knuckles, distracts me from the big picture -- and frankly, it's not good for the furrow that's engraving itself into my forehead with more ferocity each passing hour.

And then there's the back.

And then there's Maude.

Okay, no, not really. Parenthetically, though, wouldn't it be awesome if Bea Arthur appeared out of the blue? Like if she could combine Passions and Pop-Up Video, making her disembodied head appear randomly to add color commentary for every situation? Her eyebrows would, I feel, sternly disapprove of the back of this dress resembling nothing so much as a giant satin tube top and a split zipper. And if I've learned anything in life, it's to fear the deployment of her mighty furrow.

Posted by Heather at 09:03 AM in Fug or Fab | Permalink


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