September 18, 2007
Emmy Parties Fug Carpet: Rachel Griffiths
We hold this particular truth to be self-evident: that the Cocktail Party in the Front/Charity Ball in the Back mullet gown is rarely as flattering as either of those silhouettes would be on their own. It is likewise true that if you're going to rock the mullet -- either on your head or your body -- it is a prerequisite that you COMMIT to it, making it clear to on-lookers that you're PROUD of your multi-level wonder and that if they don't like it, that's THEIR untold tragedy.
Whereas Rachel Griffiths here just seems to be thinking, "if Jeremy Piven steps on my train ONE MORE TIME, so help me God, I'm going to slap the eyeliner right off his face. Now take my damn picture."
Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Laura Bennett
We here at GFY HQ would like to congratulate Project Runway's Laura Bennett on being the valedictorian of her graduating class at The Macy Gray School of Shameless Self-Promotion.
Like the skirt. Love the hair. Covet the genes that let her be that trim after popping out six children. Wouldn't refuse the earrings. And might want the whole shebang if she hadn't turned the top into a vexing, iridescent flesh-toned billboard. Google can't confirm for me whether "Dress Like You Mean It" is the slogan of her and Nick Verreos' MSN Style Studio project [edited to say: it apparently is, and these fabulous boys said Laura and Nick were each asked to wear the slogan somehow, so maybe this is her way of saying, "That is such an annoying request that I will get all up in their faces with it," which would be funny and reinforce my love of her. But let's keep going here as if I never found any of that out], or if it's just a mantra that came to her while she was meditating in her closet in a brief moment away from her rowdy boys.
It's certainly an incredibly vague piece of advice, open to many varied and terrible interpretations. If I go to the supermarket in Crocs, an evening gown, and leggings placed jauntily on my head, is it acceptable as long as I MEANT to look like Joan Rivers' court jester? If Tim Gunn decides to wear jellies and a skirt made of ties on any day other than Halloween, is it all good simply because he fully intended to spent the day as a tragic tribute to From Justin To Kelly? What if Mandy Moore -- Heaven forbid -- decided to forego panties and then slide sloppily out of a limo, all because she really MEANT to welcome the world into her labial folds? Does the fact of her intent make it okay?
I am not sure I can live in that world. Well, except maybe the one where Tim Gunn not-so-secretly digs From Justin To Kelly, because then we can get together and talk about why anyone in the world would be wooed by a series of text messages made up of very few actual words. Otherwise, though, I'm out.
September 17, 2007
Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Paula Abdul
I realize that Paula's dress is like this on purpose. I do. And in theory, I don't disapprove.
But in practice, it's PAULA ABDUL. She has to know that, simply by dint of being Paula Abdul, people would take one look at this and blindly assume not that her dress was designed that way, but rather that she was too busy drinking butterfly tears from the hoof of a centaur to know that her sparkly undergarment was showing. And when you're Paula Abdul, surely at this point you are tired of people staring at you with furrowed brows, wondering things like whether you can complete a sentence, or if anyone in your inner circle thoughtfully dosed you with mind-altering drugs to erase the memory of your vanity-project reality show. SURELY, given ALL that, you would want to wear something safe, something that couldn't possibly make anyone leap to the conclusion that you are in a constant state of confusion.
Then again... well, I said it already: It's PAULA ABDUL. Nothing is certain except that she enjoys how you've grown, both with your soul and in your cup of Coca-Cola that the angels rained onto your heart. Plus, at this point, it's possible she can't wear anything without us finding a reason to scratch our chins and ponder her clarity of mind. We should probably be content with the fact that she's fully clothed and didn't have any lines during the telecast.
Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Phoebe Price
Because I KNOW you were wondering:
Unfortunately, the rumor that I owe an armoire bearing a strong resemblance to this dress is not at all exaggerated.
Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Well Played, Kristen Bell
So, we've given the erstwhile Miss Veronica Mars a hard time around these parts, to the extent that I actually checked to see if she had her own category (and if this entry had gone the other direction, I suspect she would have gotten herself one). But lo and behold if she didn't show up at the Emmys wearing a dress that works on her wee proportions, in a beautiful, flattering color, which doesn't appear to have been purchased at Granny Gretel's Dress Emporium and Denturteria:
She is working it. Even Adrian Pasdar behind her appears to be thinking, "thank God that little Veronica Whoshername girl pulled out the stops tonight! I wonder if I can get her to talk some sense into Hayden. Speaking of attractive people, I'm certainly a handsome man, aren't I? I am. Debonair, even. Not many men my age can grow hair like this. I suspect I'm actually out-tressing Dempsey. He's here tonight, don't you think? I'm going to find him and pay people to debate which of us have a better head of hair. Watch out, Loverboy. Here I come."
Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Sara Ramirez
Sara Ramirez is a dish. Every episode of this past season of Grey's Anatomy caused me pain, because Callie is a) so cute b) so saucy c) so loaded d) so trapped in a relationship that's doomed to failure because -- oh, God, I can't get started on George right now, since I just talked myself into not canceling my Grey's season pass, and I don't have time to have that conversation with myself all over again. However, there's something about this dress that just doesn't light my fire and I can't quite figure out what it is:
Empirically, it's a perfectly serviceable gown. I just feel like she's both looked better, AND less like a bridesmaid. Also, I really really really really want to go up to her and poke my finger through that hole over her hip. I bet you twenty bucks that by the end of the night, almost everyone she knows -- and several people she does not -- will have come up to her, drunk, and prodded her. She is going to have a wee, finger-shaped bruise right there. In fact, if I were her, after a drink or two (or even just if the ceremony got boring), I'm pretty sure I would start at prodding my hip myself.
Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Well Played, Ellen Pompeo
At first, I couldn't decide if this look frightened or thrilled me.
Ultimately, I decided on the latter, in part because she no longer looks so frail that I'm afraid an errant elbow from somebody's PR rep will snap her in half. But mostly, I decided that I cherish the hair. That is a seriously ballsy big coif -- and not in that way where you suspect she had three people backbrushing it for an hour before using four cans of hairspray. No, it's almost a bit regal, like she's a secret Scarlett O'Hara fangirl.
That's got to be it, right? She even has a curtain-tie around her neck -- a gold-dipped tribute to Scarlett's most famous fashion moment. If she didn't have that, she'd look kind of boring, frankly. It's the perfect loopy touch. And besides, who can blame her for wanting to emulate literature's most marvelous Southern belle? I can practically hear her internal monologue now: "Great balls of fire -- there's that mealy-mouthed Kate Walsh, thinking she can swan around with her red hair and her wedding ring and her new spinoff. As God is my witness, that show's not going to lick ours. Even if I have to lie, cheat, steal or kill the power on their studio. Where shall she go then? Whatever shall she do? Oh, if I wasn't a lady, what I would say to that vixen! Sigh. This is getting me overexcited. I can't think about it any more today. I'll think about it tomorrow."
Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Well Played, Heidi Klum
So, Heidi Klum would look good in a potato sack cinched with baling wire, obviously, although that sounds both stabby and scratchy, but I feel like she kind of outdid herself here:
Do I love the hair and makeup? I don't know. Do I wish Seal had properly fastened his tie and collar? Yes. Are they still one of my favorite couples? Yes, especially since he brought his own camera, which I always find charmingly normal. Do I want to run up to her, distract her with something shiny, and somehow manage to talk her into trading her dress for what I'm wearing (jeans, a tank top and a UCLA hoodie -- extremely chic for the red carpet, no? Very Deconstructed Post-Collegiate Athletic Fan, VERY au courant, tres, tres merveilleux, darlings, perfect for fall, you MUST have it.)? Yes. Yes, I do. I want to wear it everywhere.
Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Hayden Panettiere
Hayden Panettiere looks AMAZING...from the neck up. Hard for her not to, really -- she's so pretty and young and nubile. Which is why I question her decision to raid Little Dakota Fanbelt's closet:
While I absolutely applaud her decision to go modest and demure, if I were as young and nubile as she is, and heading to the Emmys, and recently broken up with my boyfriend, I might have gone for something a bit less Napoleonic Courtier in the Third Trimester and something a little more self-contained. Although perhaps this is all part of her plan: she wanders into the awards and takes a seat near a dreamy young producer (or assistant, or actor -- it's good to be open-minded about these things), who promptly trods/sits on her dress.
"Oh, I'm so sorry" says the dreamy young man.
"It's no problem at all!" says Hayden.
"Say, aren't you....?"
"Why, yes. Yes, I am."
"I love your work. Tell me all about Jack Coleman."
And thus begins a beautiful new relationship. Clever. Very clever indeed.
Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Vanessa L. Williams
If I've learned anything about Vanessa Williams since she took her job on Ugly Betty, it's that she likes to make sure you see her on the red carpet. Well, okay, I've also learned that she's much better with bitchy humor than the abomination A Diva's Christmas Carol previously indicated -- in which, for real, she ended the movie by telling a baby, "Nobody pees on the Diva" -- and that whatever she's doing to look so fantastic at her age, it's working. I hope she e-mails me her secrets, and that they involve a strict eating plan mostly consisting of Diet Coke and cake.
She's toned it down follicularly since the Golden Globes, but her dress is no less pregnant with drama.
The little angel and devil on my shoulder -- although the devil is really just one of many, dispatched by his posse to represent them in this argument because they're on a dinner break -- are locked in an endless debate about whether this is so nutty it's amazing, or just way too much.
ANGEL: It's a gorgeous color on her!
DEVIL: Sure, but several relatives of Big Bird had to die to make that skirt possible.
ANGEL: Oh, relax. It's just bold. It's soap-opera bold. You love soap operas!
DEVIL: Only the ones in which Satan possesses psychiatrists, murderous she-male blackmailers hold a town hostage with its evil deeds, floating heads in powdered wigs make fun of the town witch, and people wear eyepatches despite not being pirates.
ANGEL: Well, this dress would look great in one of those.
DEVIL: It looks like the top part is molting. That thing is going to shed itself stupid all night long. You'll always know whether Vanessa's been in your bathroom stall.
ANGEL: Hmm. That's true. And I am kind of allergic to feathers.
DEVIL: See? You'd be in big trouble if you were sitting next to her.
ANGEL: I'm SURE she packed some Claritin in that purse... But wait, you know they're not REAL feathers.
DEVIL: So what? You're faltering. I WIN.
ANGEL: Fine. I admit it. The first time I saw it, I wondered which showgirl wedding in Vegas was missing a bridesmaid. Happy now?
DEVIL: Yes... Although, hey, at least she tried. So many other people looked boring.
ANGEL: Let's just go open a bottle of wine and watch Center Stage.
So yet again, a vicious battle within my brain ends in a stalemate and a ballet movie. However, now that I've had a soothing glass of shiraz and Jodie Sawyer has changed her entire costume and makeup without ever actually leaving the stage, I'm leaning toward siding with the devil. Vanessa's dress was a delicious idea that, sadly, turned out a little trashier than I like to see her.