May 27, 2008
Who Fugged It Up Most: Mischa, or... Mischa?
Apparently Mischa Barton had a busy night this weekend. She started off in this:
The head-to-toe matchy brown thing doesn't really ice my cake, particularly, but the dress might be cute and the cut of the jacket is really flattering to her waist. If I changed anything, I think it'd be the tights.
Mischa disagreed with me, evidently.
Apparently this was what Mischa was wearing when she returned to her London hotel the same night the other picture was taken. Which begs the eloquent question: Huh? Where did she have the other dress? Was it balled up in her pocket? Was her boyfriend keeping her spare moccasin-pump-hybrid shoes in his pants? Did someone dump a beer onto her head and force her home to change? Did she stand behind someone in line for the ladies' room and suddenly burst forth with, "If I could just please borrow your peacock-print sheath in a Warm Urine palette, then I'd FINALLY know what it means to be happy"? Does she remind anyone else of the Crunchy Frog sketch by Monty Python, where the owner of the Whizzo Chocolate Company explains that his gourmet Ram's Bladder Cup confection has been lovingly garnished with lark's vomit? And is any of it really an improvement? I must know.