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May 23, 2008

Jagged Little Fug

What happened to Alanis Morissette?

[Photo: Splash News]

She used to be kind of an edgy rocker type, or at least, someone who seemed sort of amused to get to play an edgy rocker type. Now she's your coworker at Kinko's who wears polyester pants and sensible trainers with her large vests, and keeps guilt-tripping everyone into coming to see her wicked-awesome Bangles cover band, Ovarian Love Bracelet, only to get them all to a show and then humiliatingly dedicate "Eternal Flame" to the dude who takes the passport photos. I've got one hand in my pocket, Alanis, and the other is covering my eyes. ZING. Thank you, good night! Tip the kid replacing the ink in Copier #2!

Edited to add: Yes, I know the rumor is that she's pregnant, but that's beside the point. I know plenty of pregnant women who don't wear that outfit. Particularly those pants. ESPECIALLY those pants.

Posted by Heather at 10:00 AM | Permalink

May 22, 2008

NYFug.com: The New ‘90210’ Commits the Ultimate Sin: Bad Fashion

So, as you can imagine, we were STOKED about the new 90210. What's not to love? But judging from the recently released promo for the spin-off/sequel/update/remix/whatever we're calling it, it's going to be more of a case of, what's not to love to hate? First off, the clothes are terrible, albeit in a potentially hilarious way. For another, it already feels deeply boring:

"Not even Tristan Wilds, a.k.a. Michael from The Wire, can explain why his character is interesting except for "the way he adapts to Beverly Hills." (Couldn't he have tossed off something like, "Oh, just the way he sold a baby for a Dior phone"?) On 90210: Days of Yore, Emily Valentine slipped drugs into Brandon's drink, then poured gasoline on a parade float and threatened arson when he dumped her. You want this to be appointment television? Give us the sense there's something comparable up these people's designer sleeves."

Join us in predicting what we're going to hate about the show after a mere 120 seconds of exposure to it over at NY Mag.com!

PS: Just so we're clear -- we're obviously going to watch it. You know that, right? We haven't suffered identical head injuries or anything.

Posted by Jessica at 02:42 PM in NYFug.com | Permalink

Denise Richards: It's Fug

I don't know about you, but every time I see an ad for Denise Richards: It's Complicated, I fly into a foaming rage. It's NOT complicated. You had a brutally wretched and acrimonious divorce during which both you and the MaSheen said incredibly disturbing things about each other, and then you hopped into the sack with your best friend's husband before either of you were even legally single. That isn't complicated. Physics is complicated. Brain surgery is complicated. Figuring out what color shoes to wear with a navy blue dress is complicated.  I would have accepted Denise Richards: It's Embarrassing, or Denise Richards: It's Awkward or even Denise Richards: I'm Disgusting, but Denise Richards: It's Complicated I reject wholly. Don't pretend your life is gloriously and fascinatingly complex in a way that wasn't totally engineered by your own actions, and I won't pretend I don't hate your hat: 

I hate your hat. And those shoes with that dress. And this entire look. And the fact that someone decided we all wanted to watch Denise Richards in her day-to-day life. Not everything needs to be on camera, and I say that as someone who actually watched all of Paradise Hotel 2.

Posted by Jessica at 02:12 PM | Permalink

Indiana Jones: Kingdom of the Crystal Fug

There are times when I wonder if Cate Blanchett is actually incapable of bowing her head, because she always looks so supremely confident in everything she wears. On occasions like this, I keep expecting her to snap to consciousness and do what any of the rest of us would do: look down at herself and jump ten feet in the air and go, "AAK! DISCO BATHROBE!" and then borrow the doorman's coat and hide at the open bar. But no.

[Photo: Splash News]

Instead she's standing there quietly transcending it, like she does with everything she wears: "Yeah, I'm awesome-looking. And talented. I could be wearing a mother'f'ing disco bathrobe and it wouldn't matter. Wait, I am? Whatever. Have you seen my skin?" Not that I think Cate Blanchett is a cocky beeyotch -- just that, you know, she COULD be. I would be.

Posted by Heather at 01:21 PM in Cate Blanchett | Permalink

Fug Candy

GUY: Um, Madge...

MADONNA: Yeeeeees? Will this be quick? I'm busy. I have to look happy, and married. I would advise you to do the same.

GUY: Aren't you forgetting something?

MADONNA: It's a bit too late to tell me you don't like my dress.

GUY: That wasn't what I was going to say. But also, I don't. Up close it's see-through, and you look like a chocolate-dipped disco ball.

MADONNA: But, like, a happy disco ball? A happy disco ball who is married, and happy about it, and happily married?

GUY: It also looks like someone was changing the color and got bored halfway through and just quit on you.

MADONNA: ... because I'm so happily married and you were jealous of his work?

GUY: And the necklace is too much, and the shoulder cutouts are ridiculous. It's like what you'd wear in an overly formal aerobics video.

MADONNA: Aerobics for people who love being married!

GUY: Listen, if you want people to think we're so happy, you could've at least remembered to wear your wedding ring.

MADONNA: I... really? I did? How do you know?

GUY: I've seen other pictures.

MADONNA: What a weird thing to say.

GUY: Let it go. The point is, people are going to NOTICE that you're not wearing your goddamn wedding ring if you're so happily married.


GU: Fine. FINE. And your face does at least look nice.


GU: You've still got it. You even almost sell the crazy dress. Maybe I DO still love you. And maybe I even love that dress.

MADONNA: Now shut up and smile.

Posted by Heather at 01:04 PM | Permalink

Carrie Underfug

If we had a GFY Suggestion Box, it would have been stuffed to the brim this morning with little pieces of paper suggesting, "CARRIE UNDERWOOD ON AI LAST NIGHT!" See, I was irritated with American Idol this morning. Not because of who won -- in fact, I really like Cook -- but because when I fired up the old TiVo and fast-forwarded through all the yadda yadda to get to the big reveal, this is what greeted me:

RYAN SEACREST: "And the winner...of American Idol... 2008....is.... David......" DING! Would you like to delete this recording? ACK! What? NO! SHOW ME MORE! I NEED TWO MORE MINUTES! (I actually think Seacrest is very good at his job, but the dramatic pausing is going to get him killed. POTENTIALLY BY IRRITATED TIVO OWNERS.)

Anyhoodle,  I was in no mood. But I crabbed to Heather, "I guess I need to look at Carrie Underwood," and she said, "Oh, no. YOU WANT TO."

And I did:

As ever, I apologize for the poor quality. You'd think the combination of me kneeling before my ancient television with my camera would produce better photos. Clearly, I need a 60 inch flat screen HDTV immediately. IT'S FOR WORK.

But yes. That is....a floaty shawl-like item attached only to the sleeves of her jacket and flittering around behind her like some kind of twee, toilet-paper-cape-esque accessory. Confused? Me too. Let's take another look at it:

In fairness, she IS singing about a drunken Vegas wedding, so perhaps we can excuse as being a rather literal costume. After all, you'd have to be drunk to wear it.

Posted by Jessica at 12:22 PM | Permalink

Fug Or Fab: Spencer Grammer

I think I've mentioned how much I love Greek before. And I do. It's so funny. Just this week it actually featured a "Donna Martin Graduates!" joke that made me laugh out loud. Seriously, it's like my favorite new show. Other than The Amazing Adventures of Chuck Bass, I mean. Anyway, Spencer "Spawn of Kelsey" Grammer here is the female protagonist and she is really very charming:

But while I actually think the dress is quite summery and fun, I don't know if I would have quite gone so matchy-matchy with the shoes.  On the other hand, I like a bright shoe. On the other hand, there's a lot going on in the dress itself. On the other hand, I need to stop dithering here.

Posted by Jessica at 11:07 AM in Fug or Fab | Permalink

Well Played, Julia Ormond

Damn, Julia Ormond is back to looking like a total bombshell.

[Photo: Splash News]

Of course, the last time we shone our fug light on Julia she was sporting a crocheted bathing cap, so -- short of hemming this at the ankle and putting on jeans underneath -- things had nowhere to go BUT up. Hopefully she's given up the dream of land-based synchronized swimming in homemade knitwear once and for all.

Posted by Heather at 10:01 AM in Well Played | Permalink

Eva Fugzigova

It seems famed lingerie model Eva Herzigova might also be the unofficial Gams of Cannes. With the exception of last year, in which she was pregnant, Eva generally always shows up at the French film festival at least once in something that openly begs for your vote for the coveted Gams d'Or.

Like, say, this little number from 2006. Or this, from now:

Not that she doesn't have the bod, and I congratulate her on her consistency. But I'm a bit less enchanted by the fact that I suspect these are the widow's weeds the Playboy bunnies will wear when Hugh Hefner is finally, irreversibly tempted by the big pillowy sex swing in the sky (where I hear you can get super-strong Viagra without a prescription -- so, like Mexico, but without the threat of dysentery). Why steal their thunder, Eva? They're going to be sad enough as it is.

Posted by Heather at 09:03 AM | Permalink

May 21, 2008

Jamie-Lynn Fugler

I guess.... sigh. There's nothing crazily, glaringly, bikini-waxer-promoting, panty-compromisingly, Leggings McCameltoe-ishly wrong with this.

But... she appears to have had some trouble with the lining bunching up under there, and it's not doing her hips any favors. Also, I know we mention bed linens a lot, but it's distressingly apt again here: I swear, I knew a girl in college with this exact duvet set on her bed, and it's not such a great idea to walk around like the embodiment of the thing 18-year olds crawled under to devour an entire box of (fat-free!!!) Snackwell's cakes, barfed on after a case race, and balled up in the bottom of a cardboard box every year when she packed up her room for the summer.

Posted by Heather at 01:24 PM | Permalink


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