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August 03, 2004

A Fugbute to Chloe Sevigny

It's worth restating that one of our mandates here at Go Fug Yourself-- aside from the fact that we're bitches who believe in bitching -- is to poke holes in the ideas of beauty and stylishness that are being force-fed us by people with taste dodgier than month-old milk. For example, the Einstein who decided trucker hats looked good and should be perched carelessly atop the tousled head of every rising actor and tomboyish starlet to befoul a red carpet event, or whomever chose to revisit 1980s-era fashion.

Or, most frighteningly, the person who decided Chloe Sevigny was a fashion maven.

Sevigny is one of the reasons this site exists; she is my nemesis in the fugly world, the person whose taste and appearance are constantly praised and rewarded, and whose "expertise" was on loan to the Imitation of Christ label, despite the fact that she dresses like she found some stuff on the floor... any floor... and decided to don it. Her fashionista snob attitude has always confounded me and seemed hugely unwarranted. Boiling my blood further: When InStyle ran a nauseatingly gushy piece on her unerring taste -- with photos of errors for miles -- and Bazaar named her one of Hollywood's best-dressed, allowing her to make statements for the obnixious little blurb quoted on the linked page in which Sevigny calls Charlize Theron "tacky." A clear case of the pot calling the kettle bloated, when the pot itself is a water-retaining blowhard.

So, Sevigny. She's the Pope of the Fugolic religion, the leader of Fugican City. And in addition to choosing to blow the equally repellant Vincent Gallo on film in The Brown Bunny, Sevigny made this dubious choice:

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See the name on the background? Cartier. Oops, Cartier. It's the kind of brand name that always begs for italics -- that's how fancy it is. And yet Chloe figured she'd throw on one of Rosie O'Donnell's old wraps for when she was painting the living room, and she paired it with hideous ankle-high brown boots. Where's her vision here? Her unerring taste? Her sophistication?

Is it here?

Hmm. Doesn't seem to be. Maybe that's a fluke and her shirt got torn off. How about here?

Zzzzz.... Wha? Oh, sorry. Maybe it's here:

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Oof. I don't suppose it's here:

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Ouch. This is getting fun.

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Whee! Come on, Chloe, look lively:

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Have you bought your legwarmers yet, people? I know this is from 2003, but taste like Chloe's never goes out of fashion. Yet, look at her -- she's wearing designs by her own Imitation of Christ pals, and she appears as miserable as if you handed her a photo of a muppet and asked for her autograph.

But, oh, never mind. Call off the dogs. I've found photographic proof, taken in the very year Bazaar crowned her so well-dressed, that Chloe Sevigny is a fashion genius, an icon to be respected and adored and revered. Behold:

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Right.

Posted by Heather at 05:16 PM in Chloe Sevigny | Permalink | Comments (13)

 

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