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March 05, 2008

Opening Fugemony

All of yesterday, we assumed we'd just been hallucinating -- that our elevated temperatures and wilting brains had invented the horrors of Chloe Sevigny's new collection for Opening Ceremony. Surely it was too absurd to be real, we figured, or they were prank photographs. I mean, she's a fashion nutjob, but she's not THAT off her tree any more, is she?

Well... apparently we are too trusting. Not only is this real, but it's Ultimate Fug. It's borne of the bowels of fug, rolled in a crispy fug coating, and deep fried in fugpura batter.

Unless your name is Tawny Kitaen, and/or you're working on your Rock Of Love audition tape for the inevitable next season, you have no business wearing this.

All of the photos, and outfits, look oddly like posters for really terrible old Lifetime Television For Women movies. You know, like, Her Stove Was Hot: My Wife, My Ho: The Trixie Lynn Bakerberry Story.

She Flipped The Death Card: Turban of Tarot, Shorts of Sin, starring Mary-Kate Olsen and Bonnie Bedelia.

Mother, May I Picnic With Danger?

Or there's these little beauties:

Dyslexic Virgin of West Beverly High: The Untold Donna Martin Story

And of course its touching sequel:

Virgin of West Beverly 2: Don't Hate, Graduate

And while I love a good, tacky 90210/Lifetime tribute as much as the next camp-hungry girl, I always thought Chloe Sevigny would rather impale herself on a roll of Laura Ashley wallpaper than come across like a cheesy substitute for Tori Spelling. Next up: A line of suspenders and oversized ties a la Brenda, followed by a collection devoted entirely to Emily Valentine and what one might wear if one needed to dump gasoline on one's ex-boyfriend's parade float. And if we're REALLY good? Melrose Place mules and miniskirts, baby.

Posted by Heather at 09:05 AM in Chloe Sevigny | Permalink

June 29, 2007

Big Fug

I knew this would happen. In many ways, I hoped it would, kind of like how the best way to make your food come at a restaurant is to get up and go to the bathroom, or the quickest way to get someone to call you is to give up on them and turn off your phone and go sit in the hot tub. And the best way to get Chloe Sevigny to confuse the hell out of you is to tell her you like her orange dress.

Welcome back, Chloe.

I actually sort of like her shirt -- longer, and it'd make a cute vintage-looking white summer dress. But of course, Chloe being Chloe, she would rather wear it with the spawn of a pair of leggings that spent one confusing, sweaty summer night in the barn making frenetic, hay-coated love to a pair of jodhpurs.

That's our Sev. Which would be a nice title for a sitcom based on her crazy fashion antics and the group of saner friends who just sit back and shake their heads in wonder at her inanity -- when they're not busy acting on all the sexual tension, of course.

Posted by Heather at 11:05 AM in Chloe Sevigny | Permalink

June 15, 2007

Well Played... gulp... Chloe Sevigny

I think playing buttoned-up Nicki on Big Love -- she of the high-necked blouses, frumpy skirts, and patronizing smile -- might have been just what the  doctor ordered for Chloe Sevigny, Duchess of Fugville.

See, the less naked she is on TV and the more repressed and wound-up her character gets, the more she wants to knock your socks into next month's laundry pile when she shows up on a red carpet. 

She just looks so good here. That color works really well with her skin, the shoes ought to be sitting in my closet, her hair is simple but sexy, and she even managed to make an otherwise clashing pink croc clutch (which, seriously, why is that not ALSO in my closet?) work with the bright orange by throwing in a funky bracelet that plays off both shades. Why can't she do this more often? Maybe the fake love of a good man and his two other wives were all Chloe needed to wash off the evils of The Brown Bunny and all the sour-faced insanity that came before and after it.

Not that I'm suggesting polygamy can cure your fashion problems; merely that it takes something VERY unusual to cure you of the taint of Vincent Gallo's t'aint.

Posted by Heather at 10:12 AM in Chloe Sevigny, Well Played | Permalink

April 04, 2007

Fugiac

I've come to the conclusion that maybe Chloe Sevigny isn't wearing this sort of thing to be ironic, after all. I used to think she was like those young dudes who consciously and carefully grow handlebar mustaches, because nothing is sexier than being ironic all over your own face. And this irked me. After a certain age, looking ugly on purpose to prove that you're too cool to care is just sad. But now I actually suspect that C. Sev seriously might just totally dig the 80s:

If that is the case, I must salute her commitment to the cause. It takes a real fan to tackle both shiny chintz and puffy sleeves with such enthusiasm. And if that is the reason behind this recreation of a dress Dynasty's Fallon Carrington might have worn to some oil-related function that she would have then snuck out of to try to seduce her step-mother's tennis coach, then I have to try my best to understand. And likewise wonder what else this love of the 80s hath wrought in Chloe's life: Does she spend an inordinate amount of time on eBay, tracking down cases of New Coke, only to give up periodically and just drive out to the one place in the state that still sells Tab? Does she have a Mon Chi Chi next to her bed, and does she sing the Mon Chi Chi song to it every morning when she wakes up underneath her Strawberry Shortcake duvet? Does the very existence of Cool Ranch Doritos thrill her to the bone, and does she try and sneak them into matinĂ©e showings of The Goonies?  Is she pretty sure that she's going to marry Michael J. Fox? Because if so...I will maybe let this pass. A passionate crush on Michael J. Fox leaves you very little time to really concentrate on what you're wearing, which also excuses those stirrup pants I had in 6th grade.

Posted by Jessica at 10:16 AM in Chloe Sevigny | Permalink

June 01, 2006

Big Fug

After a loathsome absence from the site since January, we're pleased to invite you to cast your hungry eyes upon one of GFY's all-time favorite benefugtresses: Chloe Sevigny.

Ms. Sevigny's dress is one part nightgown, two parts curtain-that-separates-the-brothel-front-room-from-the-back-den-of-sin, two parts something she stole from Joan Rivers' closet, and zero parts long enough to comfortably and consistently cover her crotch.

This exceptional debacle is quite possibly her way of compensating for the modest, high-waisted and long-hemmed Compound Couture her character favors on Big Love -- on which she is fantastic; Jess has already said that recently, but unfortunately it's so true that it bears repeating. But still, even if Chloe is relishing her reclaimed fashion freedom, she could probably find a way to do it that is not so aggressively frightening. I'm not even sure Joan Rivers would want that, come to think of it, although if she did, a) she is Joan f'ing Rivers, and however you feel about her, you have to admit she can pretty much wear whatever she wants; and b) it would assuredly come with a bottom half of some kind, or perhaps just act as a sort of scarf or wrap, because crotchless groin-length gowns are not how homegirl rolls.

How did this become about Joan Rivers? I'm not sure. She's a force far greater than I. But in sum, thank you, Chloe, for sparing us those stupid white sunglasses, but if you drop anything, for the love of God, bend at the knees and not at the waist.

Posted by Heather at 03:30 PM in Chloe Sevigny | Permalink

January 17, 2006

Golden Globe Fug Parties: Chloe Sevigny

We didn't like Reese's dress. Melanie Griffith didn't look, or even really appear, off her rocker. Mary-Louise Parker the Monotonous Mumbler is suddenly a decorated actor. Yes, readers, it's true: These are scary, ever-changing times.

That's why it's so comforting when we see somebody who looks exactly as you want them to -- somebody for whom you have expectations, and who has risen to meet them. That somebody, at the Golden Globes, was Chloe Sevigny.

It's well-documented that we here at GFY HQ find it perplexing that so many people and publications laud Sevigny as blessed with unerring and fascinating taste. We think she's brutal. Exhibit ZZ, or thereabouts, is this dress. Aside from appearing as though she simply twirled around slowly while somebody wrapped her in purple cellophane, this outfit also harkens memories of a 13-year old girl attending her very first middle-school formal, hoping to sway side-to-side with her arms draped over the shoulders of her big crush while "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" played pseudo-romantically on the loudspeakers.

And that's exactly what we anticipated Sevigny would look like when her image popped up on our computer screens this morning. Hideous dress? Check. Hair pulled back into a severe bun? Check. Smug, chinny expression on her face? Check, check. All is right in the world.

Posted by Heather at 02:18 PM in Chloe Sevigny, Golden Globes | Permalink

November 09, 2005

Chloe Fugigny

Oh dear. Looks like Cinderchloe didn't play by the curfew rules, and her gown shrank back into what it was before -- Granny Sevigny's famous and famously impractical doily flowerpot.

Posted by Heather at 08:39 AM in Chloe Sevigny | Permalink

May 06, 2005

Coachella: Bringing Fugs Together

The most important thing that happened at the Coachella music festival last weekend was not, in fact, the bands' performances, or the fact that I got through it without a sunburn. No, the most culturally significant event of the weekend was captured on camera by none other than the ingenious Uncle Grambo over at Whatevs.org:

What you see above is not an uncomfortable moment in which a homeless guy hits on the girl with tightest hot pants he can see. Nor is this a girl smilingly offering to help pick the ticks out of a grown man's beard. In fact, as documented by our favorite uncle, this is a stirring, beautiful reunion between public blower and blowee -- yes, The Brown Bunny's Chloe Sevigny and Vincent Gallo.

We are heartened to see Ms. Fugigny is still clinging to her blindingly white Ray Bans, while simultaneously proving to the world that a) high-waisted pants are the spawn of Satan's sewing machine, and b) there is such a thing as too tight and too short. And we are frightened to see that nobody has shorn Mr. Gallo, but given how nasty he always looks from the neck up, we trust that somebody in Security at the very least turned a hose on him, mistakenly -- or not -- taking him for a ticketless vagrant.

The only thing that would've made this better would be if their happy hug had been followed by a nostalgic tromboner recital. But then, our retinas can't take that kind of scorching, and we don't think his wang has a spit valve, so it's just as well.

Posted by Heather at 11:07 AM in Chloe Sevigny | Permalink

April 06, 2005

Chloe Sofugny

In a further example of Chloe Sevigny's unerring taste and vision, the actress is brazenly showing the world that nothing complements a sweatshorts jumpsuit quite like full-on Roman sandals:


[Photo courtesy of Lime-light.org.]

Thank God Chloe can still be relied upon for the kind of horrendous taste, even in relaxation, that leads to the deployment of heretofore unused phrases -- like, for example, "sweatshorts jumpsuit."

But more importantly, thank God she hasn't given up on those white-framed sunglasses. Because as long as those are out there, fug is never far away.

Posted by Heather at 01:06 PM in Chloe Sevigny | Permalink

September 08, 2004

New York Fugshion Week: Chloe Sevigny

Dear Chloe "Fuck Your Umlaut" Sevigny,

Why so blue?

When you woke up this morning and realized that the oversized white sunglasses your mom bought for you at Raging Waters back in 1983 still fit your big fat head, didn't you smile? When you got out of the shower and decided just to let your hair do its own thing -- much as I do on days when I have a busy schedule of the stomach flu ahead of me -- didn't you chuckle to yourself, pleased with your own efficiency? When you decided to wear that dress that Half Pint wore in the episode of Little House on Prairie where Mary burns down the barn and wakes up all blind, weren't you filled with glee at the thought of your own unbearably ironic hipster charm? When you stole that umbrella from your grandma, didn't you laugh at the thought of the old woman stuck in the rain without it? When you then nabbed her orthopedic shoes and outfitted them with heels made of corks from the discarded bottles of Two Buck Chuck littering your bedroom, weren't you thrilled with your own ingenuity? Yes? Then why do you look so sad?

Does it have something to do with Vincent Gallo's wang?

Posted by Jessica at 05:21 PM in Chloe Sevigny, High Fugshion | Permalink | Comments (0)

 

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