Fab or Fug: Gwen Stefani

So, you all know my stance on the formal shorts issue, of course. And I'm pretty sure that if Km Stewart or someone showed up at the Ivy or whatever wearing this, I would snit, "Nice try, Kim Stewart, but you are NO Gwen Stefani," and then I would flounce off the interwebs and off to my room. On the other hand, Gwen Stefani IS Gwen Stefani, and, ergo, I feel like she's kind of working what appears to possibly be formal dolphin running shorts and shortie boots:

polls by twiigs.com...

Tragic Fugdom

I have to admit, I've always had a fondness for Gwen Stefani -- with a brief time out for the Wacky Footless White Tights and Silent Harajuku Girls as Accessories period. That was just weird. Perhaps it's because we share a love of leopard print, I don't know. But it's hard not to give it up for someone who clearly is really creative about what she wears, even if what she wears is totally nutola. And god knows, it's no secret that Gwen cares about what she looks like. In fact, until about ten minutes ago, I misheard the "What You Waiting For" lyric "I can't wait to go back and do Japan/Get me lots of brand new fans/Osaka, Tokyo/You Harajuku girls/Damn, you've got some wicked style,"  as "I can't wait to go back and do Japan/Get me lots of brand new fans/Osaka, Tokyo/Your hair is sure good, girls/Damn, you've got some wicked style," meaning that, you know, she can't wait to go back to Japan because all the girls there are wearing awesome outfits and have really great hair. This did not seem weird to me. Obviously Gwen would notice what everyone was wearing everywhere she went. She thinks about these things. Which is why I am mildly alarmed by this:

 

Photo courtesy of Celebrity Babylon.

Why, yes, those are men's briefs poking out from the top of what I presume are Gavin's old jeans, circa "Machinehead." And in the interest of full disclosure, I am pretty sure that I wore the Boyfriend Jeans, tight polo shirt and Birkenstocks look more than once while I was in college (it was the 90s, dude. I woke up every morning to the guy next door warbling that, despite all his rage, he was still just a rat in a cage).  She looks comfortable and cute, in a ratty kind of way, and it all just takes me back -- what can I say? Howevs: what's with the undies?  Unlike in certain other cases, I have full confidence that when Gwen shows us her delicates, she knows she's doing it.  So, much as we all found ourselves looking for our own silent gang of artfully coiffed and wardrobed individuals of the nationality of our choice two years ago, are we likewise about to enter a period where it's trendy for girls to sport men's underwear? Because that seems too much like high school, when I wore boxers all the time. (Not as underwear. As shorts. My actual underwear is none of your business. Okay, except maybe for you -- you're cute.)

poll by twiigs.com...

Fug Stefani

I generally can't sit through the terrible American Idol results shows without the promise of being able to fast-forward through the parts that horrify me (read: 97 percent of it). This is how I ended up stalling for time by watching half of She's All That last night, and debating with my friend which of the supporting cast members has since become the most famous. Disqualifying Lil' Kim for just being there on a lark, we got to: Anna Paquin, Dule Hill, and Gabrielle Union in that order, after much debate about the last two. In case you were wondering. Matthew Lillard was also disqualified, on account of Scooby Doo, because DEAR GOD.

Anyway, once we got going on Idol, my itchy trigger finger had to put down the remote so that it could pick up my camera. Because as usual, Gwen Stefani was delivering a hearty dose of shrink-wrapped crazy:

I had thought Gwen passed Harajuku Fever like a particularly gargantuan kidney stone, but if Kimono, Interrupted up there is any indication, she's still got some residual symptoms.

At first, I couldn't fathom why she would turn her obi into a garish rosette after using it to tie her skirt into what resembles a very roomy, overly formal adult diaper. But then I caught a glimpse of who showed up at the finale on the red carpet,... and I realized Gwen must have just fallen and hit her head on the toilet earlier today, and instead of introducing her to the flux capacitor like it should have, it merely caused her to take style tips from the Miss America organization's official court jester.

Yes: Bobby Trendy.

If Charo ever needs a footman for a horse-drawn carriage, this is what the uniform would look like.

And if America were ever invited into the Eurovision Song Contest on some sort of honorary visa -- like, say, if Luxembourg were to just give up and admit it kind of needs to mow the lawn that night anyway, deferring its spot to us -- I would send over Bobby Trendy. It doesn't even matter if he can sing. Between the tulle and the stripper boots and the choker and the little bow befitting only the most spoiled poodle at the dog show, he would be COMPLETELY underdressed, and half the acts would look over at him and snort, "Oh, please, who invited Laura Ingalls Wilder?"

At which point Bobby would have to move over there to lock himself in a Tulle Shed and hone his craft in the presence of the real masters, and people like Gwen Stefani would never be in danger of walking up to him in a post-bathroom-accident delirium to ask, "Hey, will you tie this thing for me? I can't reach." Everybody wins.

Fug It Up

I don't really feel like saying any more that I hate high-waisted Grandpa-pouch-inducing formal shorts, self-made vanity-logo bling, and -- increasingly -- wee little girlie neckties. It's been said. A lot. By us. Our faces are turning blue from the effort.

So instead, I'll say this: All of a sudden, I have THE most potent craving for those deliciously cruncy little Bugles corn snacks. I can't imagine why.

AMAs: The Lonely Fugherd

At what point did Gwen Stefani decide to become the cheap Halloween-costume version of herself?

Between the outfit that looks stolen straight from Serena Williams' tennis bag of misguided on-court couture to the aggressive Gucci-logo knockoff on the belt to the $4.99 wig from Dr. Boo's Costume Emporium and Terror Barn to the tinted Elvis shades that aren't actually blocking any light (and therefore are only there because she actually decided they look good), I am overall disappointed in Gwen's post-pregnancy return to the red carpet, toned gams notwithstanding.

Her on-stage getup wasn't much better.

Yes, she has traded in the Serena suit, but she's replaced it with those omnipresent offensively odd footless tights, some sort of space-Cleopatra jumper, and a gaggle of Stefani clones in ridiculous children's pajamas and wrestling boots.

All I can surmise from any of this is: Lucy Liu finally woke up and realized she accidentally starred in two Charlie's Angels films, and has hurriedly given her part to a big-screen-hungry Stefani. Her first film in as part of the trio, Charlie's Angels 3: Engage The Thrusters, sends our three jumpsuit-crazy wingnuts into the outer realms of the galaxy to retrieve a devastating universe-exploding weapon, while also engaging in intergalactic shenanigans with karaoke, mime, a cooking class, a stealth jet dogfight, and an actual dogfight, all wrapped up in the tawdry bow of another plot so poorly rendered it appears to have been translated into English from its native Martian.

So I guess congratulations are in order... to Lucy Liu. As for Gwen, well, listen up, lady: This is what you get for dragging The Sound of Music's poor, unsuspecting "The Lonely Goatherd" into your maddening repertoire. You have only yourself to blame.

Fug Stefani

Gwen Stefani looked so fantastic throughout her pregnancy; quirky and unusual, but still flattering. And now...well, we've still got "unusual" covered.

I sort of don't know what to say, and I almost always know what to say.  Perhaps as an homage to Claridge's, where it appears this event was held, Gwen decided it would be a good idea to dress as Americans imagine a low-level British royal would have dressed in, like, 1983, back when even Princess Diana thought it was a good idea to wear giant sailor collars and dropped waists.

My distaste for the 80s revival has been well documented here, but I think if anyone could pull it off, it would be Gwen. But let's move more toward, like, kooky Lacroix 80s revival and away from dowdy, gift bag-looking 80s revival, shall we?

Love. Angel. Music. FUG

Look, I'm happy that Gwen is getting to have her own baby after Gavin's Secret Mystery Lovechild Who Looks Just Like Him So How Much Of A Mystery Could Her Paternity Have Been? bombshell.

And yet she herself is not looking like much of bombshell lately:

There are some outfits that are so complex in their fug that they defy words and require math. This is one of them.  And I think we can all agree that Derelicte + harajuku x hormones + Gavin's manpris = CRAZY.

Billboard Music Awards Fug Carpet: Gwen

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a supposed style icon:

Who would wear this anywhere? Why, Gwen Stefani, of course. I feel more and more like her benchmark is, "Would sane people consider this utterly ridiculous? Will it make people wonder why anyone pays me to design clothing? THEN I SHALL WEAR IT."

I'll give you that it's definitely brave to sport a crown of flowers over unflatteringly slicked and parted hair, all with a flimsy wrap that makes it look like she's a synchronized swimmer just out of the pool and ready for a night on the town in shoes for which her toes are too long. But is it attractive? I don't think so. For sure, the dress -- which isn't terrible on its own -- never had a chance once she went all Rose Parade on her head. It should sue for irreconcilable differences.

Perhaps she's just trying to distract people from her belly. Certainly a woman as notoriously enamored of her own abs as Gwen is would be wearing something that flaunts them -- unless they are doughy these days. Doughy like, say, a bun. An oven-bun, if you get what I'm saying, and I think you do.

She's Just A Fug in the World

Gwen Stefani reveals the trend she's adopting for fall,  Extreme Referee Chic:

See, it's LIKE a referree's uniform, except ALL THE WAY DOWN YOUR BODY. Also, with bigger stripes! And a bare midriff! Like you'd see in, say, maybe, Extreme Arena Football, if there were such a thing and if anyone actually watched arena football other than the parents of the arena football players and sometimes not even them.

I wonder if anyone's mentioned to her that her face is turning into Madonna's. Maybe the stripes are merely a distractionary tactic.

Teen Choice Awards Show Fug: Gwen Stefani

"Okay, I give. I do. I admit it -- I don't know what the hell I'm doing any more. I thought maybe taking off the do-rag I wore on the red carpet, and replacing it with this kicky Air Force Marching Band cap might tie it all together, but... y'all, that shit's bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S. It's time to be honest. We both know I couldn't tie anything together if I had a diagram, D-I-A-G-R-A-M. I almost want to yell at you guys for believing that I have any clue what I'm wearing on a given day. What is wrong with you? I have actually shown up somewhere in a shirt I savaged with some scissors, S-C-I-S-S-O-R... S. I've lost it. Poof. Gone. There ain't no hollaback."

What You Fuggin' For?

I love it when people wear their skirts in such a way that there is little or no real estate between the waist and the armpits:

Does she just have the worst static-cling imaginable, or did Gwen Stefani just come from making out with the school rebel underneath the bleachers? Those are some third-base wrinkles on that skirt...

... And, Gwen, way to sneak in those infamous leggings. Don't think we didn't notice, lady. You're not that fair-skinned.

HollaFug Girl

I think La Stefani needs her own category, don't you?

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She looks like a deranged showgirl, sneaking out the stage door after her performance in the widely panned Evita: The Hot Pants Years.

If I Were a Fug Girl

I'm having conflicting emotions:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb]

Am I overcome with relief about the fact that Gwen has finally, apparently, jettisoned her posse of silent Japanese schoolgirls? Or am I deeply disturbed that she's apparently decided that her new look is Toga Party Chic? Does this mean that she's going to trade the schoolgirls in for for a bunch of drunk frat boys, draped in old Star Wars bed sheets, doing beer bongs and keg stands on the red carpet? And what does it say about me that I'd sort of prefer that? And that by "sort of," I mean, "totally"?

Grammy Telecast: Fug Stefani

Lately, Gwen Stefani has been scaring the hell out of me with her Harajuku obsession, and her insistence on styling her hair as if a vulture attacked from above and briefly became ensnared in her coif.

But I still trusted her not to ruin some things. Specifically, pirates. Everyone loves a pirate. And yet somehow, it never occured to me that Ms. Love Angel Music Fugly might want to pay tribute to them by making an unholy marriage of The Crazy and pirate chic... but, here she is on stage at the Grammys performing alongside Eve:

Eve, I believe, symbolizes the pirate's booty, even if she appears to have dieted her booty into oblivion. But she looks fine, if a little bit overeager for somebody to use her birth canal as a periscope (I hear if you look up it, you actually end up seeing things through her eyes).

And Gwen, singing her wretchedly bastardized "If I Were A Rich Man" cover, is apparently the pillaging swashbuckler -- except she looks like she's George Washington, rolling in after a night on the moonshine and drunkenly wondering where he left his pantaloons.

If only this photo showcased the effect when Gwen turned around and shook her ass -- which was, she looked like she was wearing a cloth diaper. And not a clean one. She seems happy about joining Sheryl Crow in the new "I'm A Twiggy, Muscular Shadow Of My Former Already-Thin Self" trend, but... does she have to shimmy around on-stage like a crocodile just coughed her up whole?

Fug Stefani

I think Gwen Stefani has maybe lost her mind a little bit:

[Reader-submitted photo]

She doesn't look like she's cleverly interpreting Japanese baby-doll fashion, which I believe was her intent. Yes, she's performing on-stage, but... where are the three rings? Where's the Big Top? Where's the ringmaster? She looks like she belongs on a tightrope, or standing on the back of a white horse with a feather sticking out of the crown atop her head -- or pinned to a target while a man in tights and a handlebar mustache hurls knives at her giggling body.

What is it, Gwen? Why the weird? Is it the stress of your solo album? The heady drunk power of having your own fashion line? The strange, all-consuming curiosity about your real-life quasi-"Billie Jean" scenario, and whether your husband knew that the kid was his daughter, and just didn't tell you?

Whatever it is, we hope you pull through it. Go get a massage or something. Get a facial. Then return to your closet and put a little sanity back into the clothes. This Minnie Mouse-meets-"Alice In Wonderland"-meets-Hooker Circus thing isn't really working.