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September 12, 2007

New York Fugshion Week: Day 7

We were already sad that Fashion Week is almost over (we'll be back to posting regularly on Friday). And then the rain came, like giant dirty tears from the sky. Maybe God was crying in anticipation of J Lo's runway show, which was apocalyptic in its own way. More on that tomorrow (sadly, no one wore fur hotpants, or a cardboard box for a hat. Also, no mink eyelashes were sighted on people who were not us).

But for now:

Posted by Jessica at 07:29 AM in High Fugshion | Permalink

September 11, 2007

New York Fugshion Week: Day 6

Fashion Week continues apace, full of humidity, rain showers, hot tennis players, and yet more Vincent Gallo. We accidentally made eye contact with him the other day. It was scary...yet somehow intriguing. It felt a lot like this:

In all fairness, though, in spite of looking...you know, like he wandered away from the Manson Compound, Vincent HAS seemed rather cheery and enthusiastic every time we've seen him so far this week. Maybe he's turned over a new leaf, one that doesn't involve as many on-screen sex acts.

Voila, Ye Olde Highlight Reel:

  • We are, yet again, rather mean to Jessica Simpson. But seriously. What is her deal?
  • We totally eyeballed pregnant Juliana Marguiles and her sexy fiance. We saw them canoodling last year and said to each other, "each other, that dude with Juliana Marguiles is HOT. Girlfriend needs to lock that down!" And now she has. We feel so proud. Also, we have to note that we're aware that almost everything we've said in the last week has somehow featured the phrase, "total hottie," but in our defense...I don't know. Boys are cute. If two girls on the loose in the Big Apple can't appreciate, say, Nigel Barker, what has the world come to, I ask of you? What? PS: Roger Federer is hot, too.
  • So are Alyson Hannigan's new bangs, thank god.
  • Did someone say "Roger Federer?"  His hotness actually received APPLAUSE at Oscar de le Renta.
  • Ending the hot streak? Ryan Cabrera.

Posted by Jessica at 07:03 AM in High Fugshion | Permalink

September 10, 2007

New York Fugshion Week: Days 3, 4, and 5

The humidity tried to beat us down on Friday, clenched its gnarled fists again on Saturday, and whupped us but good on Sunday. Still, it doesn't ruin our moods -- Bryant Park looks pretty, if crowded; the clothes are cute; the cold Diet Cokes go down like magic tonic; and there was a glut of celebrities taking in whatever shows they could before flying west for the VMAs. We are trying not to feel deserted.

Here are the highlights:

We do wish we'd been able to see Molly Sims' whole outfit from the Max Azria show in the moment, rather than so far after the fact. Behold:

It's a scrolldown from stylish to scullery maid.  She can show up to the ball and clean out the bathroom stalls! So handy.

Posted by Heather at 04:35 AM in High Fugshion | Permalink

September 07, 2007

New York Fugshion Week: Day 2

After two days, countless subway rides (which we actually love) and way too many toe blisters, the New York cab drivers' strike is finally finished. Allegedly. Please, God. I feel like Amber on Big Brother, sitting on my bed tugging at my necklace and weepily thanking you aloud for the special vision you gave me of us swanning around town in easily accessible taxis -- finished with a heartfelt if slightly strange, "God bless you, God."

Here's a look at our latest on Show & Talk:

Also, when we mentioned that Mischa Barton looked "dressed down" and a little slovenly at Miss Sixty, we were being charitable. Check it:

Girl, please. Did you even go home last night? Are those your pants, or the pants of some reedy, seedy rocker dude you picked up at an after-after-after party and swapped clothes with because he had such trendy skinny jeans? Did somebody cast you in Groupies: A Gonorrhific Tale?

We give up. It's a waste of what you've got, but since when have you listened to us?

Posted by Heather at 06:30 AM in High Fugshion | Permalink

September 05, 2007

New York Fugshion Week: Day 1

On our first day prowling the tents at Bryant Park, we can report with fair confidence that Ashlee Simpson's nose job is just as good as we thought; Sophia Bush is one of the celebs we most want to take out for shopping and an Ice Blended; and we couldn't be more thrilled that Jessica Paster seems to be eclipsing Rachel Zoe as Hollywood's favored stylist because she doesn't seem interested in a) undereating, b) overtanning, or c) spawning clones. She also seems less likely to want to kick us in the face, but you never know.

But by far the best celebrity sightings of the day are things that we trust most of our readers will cherish as we do. First, roaming around the Vena Cava show was the latest and yet slightly less douchey deviant boyfriend on The Hills: the one and only Justin-Bobby (so named, for the uninitiated, because....some of his friends call him Justin, and some call him Bobby, or something, like, HELLO, Audrina, this is NOT GOING TO WORK OUT, regardless of the fact that he's also the kind of dude who says stuff like, "Truth and time tell all," instead of a simple, "Nah, I don't I'm ever going to commit to you"). Naturally, J-B was wearing what appeared to be a homemade beret.

Then, back at the tents just in time for Gwen Stefani's L.A.M.B. show (more on that tomorrow), we actually unconsciously grabbed each other's arms in delight when we caught sight of John Basedow, Patriotic Fitness Addict. To this minute we're unsure how we recognized him without his shirt on, or without the familiar sight of the American flag billowing behind him in those old ads (the ones where he looked older somehow than he does now, MAGICALLY). But he was toting a camera crew with a RockMeTV.com sticker on it, so we can only assume he is there to spread the word via audio-visual wizardry that you are, indeed, fully encouraged to rock him. We are also pretty sure that, if death is not an option, we'd still leave him behind in favor of Body By Jake. What can we say? Look at the Basedow pictures -- they'll haunt your dreams. Like ghouls. In Justin-Bobby berets.

Check NY Mag's Show and Talk Blog for more Fashion Week yadda yadda yadda, including the shocking development that Ashlee Simpson IS capable of taking off her stupid fedora.

Posted by Heather at 09:23 PM in High Fugshion | Permalink

April 13, 2007

Fugovich-Hawk

MILLA JOVOVICH: I love these events.

JENNY LEWIS: Yeah, I'm having a great time here in my Jovovich-Hawk sandwich, but seriously, Milla... is Carmen okay?

MILLA: Ignore her, Jenny. She always looks like she's dying.

JENNY: Aren't you afraid she'll keel over?

MILLA: Eh. It's kind of awesome that she's always at death's door because she never notices when I hog all the best of the dresses we make.

JENNY: Yeah, I meant to thank you for getting me out of my regular babydoll shifts and knee socks.

MILLA: I'm a stud.

JENNY: Although do you think maybe next time you could give me something that isn't so high-waisted? The distance between my boobs and my belly button looks like it's about two inches.

MILLA: Right. I'll get Carmen on that.

JENNY: I don't think she's even blinking. And did she wash her hair this week?

MILLA: Of course not. I figure, if people think she's about to go toes-up, they'll buy a lot of clothes out of pity.

JENNY: I think she might already be dead. She smells like Marc Anthony.

MILLA: Oh, fine. Can somebody please get Carmen some vitamins? And a hose?

CARMEN: I should've had a V-8.

Posted by Heather at 11:13 AM in High Fugshion | Permalink

March 22, 2007

The Dukes of Fuggard

You probably know April Scott from such meaningful, touching roles as Model #14, Girl in Bikini, Model, Model, Vegas Girl, or -- my personal favorite -- Runway Model. Verily, Los Angeles Fashion Week truly does attract the upper echelon of the celebrity crop. Okay, so she also took over the Jessica Simpson role in the straight-to-USA Network prequel to The Dukes of Hazzard, Dukes of Hazzard: The Beginning, and while I have not seen this program, I am QUITE sure that she is better in the part than poor J. Simp was. I mean, for serious: I've never heard a worse Southern accent on an actress and JESSICA IS FROM THE SOUTH.  Just TALK, you moron. God. But this was not meant to devolve into a diatribe against poor Simpson The Elder who -- as long as we're talking about her -- looks pretty cute as a brunette, I must say, and who has been pleasantly low key lately.

But yes. April Scott. For those of you keeping score at home, the IMDb keywords for her Dukes TV effort are: Prequel, Sequel, Buxom, Cleavage, Underwear, so I'm advising a certain portion of our reading audience to set their TiVos, and don't complain I never did nothing for you. Much as this rather unfortunate dress does nothing for Miss Scott: 

Why, it's camouflaging all her keywords!

Posted by Jessica at 11:47 AM in High Fugshion | Permalink

L.A. Fugshion Week: Hayden Panettiere

Hayden Panettiere of Heroes is so cute, and that is an adorable apron she's wearing. But ... what gives, cheerleader? Did the hot, mysterious Haitian secretly pluck all memory of the concept of shirts from your brain? That seems awfully pervy of him.

Posted by Heather at 08:37 AM in High Fugshion | Permalink

March 21, 2007

L.A. Fugshion Week: Nicky Hilton

Dear Nicky Hilton,

You're in the front row at L.A. Fashion Week, and you're related to that drippy suckmaggot Paris -- she who blithely did her makeup in the middle of a Max Azria show in September -- so we shouldn't be surprised that you have a short attention span yourself.

And we were even willing to give you the benefit of the doubt that, mid-show, you were merely idly clutching your BlackBerry because you didn't have anything else to do with that hand -- perhaps Brandon Davis was on your other side, for instance, and you were trying not to catch anything via accidental contact. That's certainly completely understandable.

But then we saw another photo.

Bitch, please. Now, I'm sure you're not the only one who does this, but that doesn't make it right. Fashion shows are, like, 10 minutes long, once they get going. I know L.A. Fashion Week doesn't quite have the cachet of its New York cousin, but seriously, whatever it is couldn't wait? You couldn't be polite, having been given a prize spot by the runway, and refrain from gazing at your BlackBerry for a few minutes? What was the emergency? Had one of the items in your clothing line accidentally turned out attractive, forcing a last-second redesign? Did Paris forget how to use a zipper and need you for advice? Where are your manners, child? Surely Paris didn't borrow them; she wouldn't know what to do with them if they came with instructions.

Oh, and, er, bringing it back on topic about the clothes... actually, you pretty much look fine. WHEN YOU ARE NOT BEING RUDE.

Sheesh.

Posted by Heather at 02:59 PM in High Fugshion, Paris & Nicky Hilton | Permalink

L.A. Fugshion Week: Fug 'Em Up (Style)

Blu Cantrell is the Old Faithful of fuggery, not in the sense that she is old -- she's a year younger than I am (allegedly) and therefore is a mere spring chicken about to burst into bloom. Or something  -- but because she can be counted on, like the famous geyser, to erupt into something noteworthy roughly every hour and a half. We haven't seen much of Blu lately, so this eruption was overdue. And it did not disappoint:

It's like she's gone to Los Angeles Fashion Week for the express purpose of finding a shirt to wear that very night.

Posted by Jessica at 08:21 AM in High Fugshion | Permalink

 

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