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January 22, 2008

Fugjou Phillips

Leaving aside for a second the temperature in Utah right now, I don't understand why Bijou Phillips would pair a floaty, flirty peach nightie...

... with heavy black tights and shoes that someone's Granny Hazel wears at the retirement palace on Meatloaf/Meat Loaf night (room and board  = a fortune; chowing down on slabs of ground beef and then dancing cheek-to-cheek to "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" with the dude her girlfriends call Liver-Spots Pete = priceless).

But also, you can't totally ignore the weather, because she's at Sundance and it's been something like 25 degrees (or -4, for you Celsius lovebirds out there). It seems unfair to the rest of her that her ankles and toes are the only things receiving extra consideration for the fact that it is not summer, she is not in L.A., and she is not ninety and sleepwalking. Although, I've never been to Sundance -- maybe it's like that scene in Gone With The Wind when they attend the Wilkes' barbecue at Twelve Oaks, and all the girls go upstairs halfway through to undress and take restorative, ladylike naps in their modest skivvies. Maybe Bijou just woke up from a quick kip all flush with thoughts of getting revenge on somebody, and momentarily forgot to put on the rest of her clothes.

Or maybe she woke up a vagrant:

Hooray for the scarf. But the coat just seems like a glorified -- or horrified -- sweatshirt. The entire thing now evokes That Homeless Lady Who Sleeps At The Bus Stop. In short, this is so Chloe Sevigny circa 2004. Fresh crazy is troubling enough; stale crazy is just not even worth sticking in the toaster to see if you can salvage it.

Posted by Heather at 09:03 AM | Permalink

 

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