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May 06, 2008

Met Ball Fug Carpet: Fergie

And things had been going so well!

I am perplexed by the fact that she seems to have her wrap tucked into the top of her gown as some kind of impromptu sleeve, which is making her look weirdly wider than she actually is (which is:  not at all), but it doesn't help that she looks INSANELY cranky. What happened in the car on the way over? Did she and Josh argue over the last of the Flaming Hot Cheetos? (Understandable. I can't stop eating those things even though they've been scientifically proven to make my stomach hurt. I am convinced they're dusted with crack.) Did the driver ask her if she's knocked up yet? (Also understandable, yet none of our business. Doesn't he know that you just closely study the waistline/drinking habits of every woman of child-bearing age and then speculate behind their backs?) Did Anna Wintour beat her in a footrace to the open bar? What up, Fergie Ferg? I secretly kind of love you now! Look alive!

Posted by Jessica at 11:19 AM in Fergie (the Pea, not the duchess), Met Ball | Permalink

Met Ball Fug Carpet: The Olsens

ASHLEY: People will get this, right? That I'm going as a superhero's VICTIM? With the ripped clothes?

CHRISTIAN LOUBOUTIN: POW!

MARY-KATE: You know who'd have loved this? Frankie Sinatra. Oh, he was a card.

ASHLEY: What?

LOUBOUTIN: ZAP!

M-K: It all reminds me of the time I did Carson with a lit cigarette in my hair. How McMahon did laugh! He was all hands, that Eddie. And what a tongue!

ASHLEY: I don't understand.

LOUBOUTIN: KER-BLAM!

M-K: Somebody get me a scotch, neat, and make it a double. God, that reminds me of that night with Carol Channing and the Hardy Boys. I've got stories about that hussy that would make your toes curl.

ASHLEY: How is it that we're related? Sometimes I think this whole thing is a bizarre accident.

LOUBOUTIN: WHAMMO!

M-K: It's like Bette Davis used to say: "If you can't take off your clothes, then it's not worth having dinner." Or was that Paris Hilton?

ASHLEY: The worst part is, people might think you're ME. Clearly I have to dye my hair again.

M-K: You want to talk about buying new drapes? Let me tell you about the day Phyllis Diller came over for canasta and absinthe -- we'd both been having these WICKED hot flashes, see, and...

LOUBOUTIN: SPLAT!

ASHLEY: Time to go.

Posted by Heather at 10:52 AM in Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, Met Ball | Permalink

Met Ball Fug Carpet Fug Or Fab: Eva Longoria Parker

Note number one for Eva Longoria Parker:  You have GOT to blend your makeup a bit better. Your forehead is way paler than your shoulders and it is weird, like you've got the forehead of a vampire but the neck of a marginally talented actress. You've got to make your Makeup Bitch blend! Blend! Or is it possible that you've crossed your Makeup Bitch one too many times and she's now making you pay by doing you up like the Cranky Undead? In which case: e-mail us, Makeup Bitch. We'd like to buy you a box of wine.

Otherwise, I have a query for you:

Posted by Jessica at 10:21 AM in Fug or Fab, Met Ball | Permalink

Met Ball Fug Carpet: Rachel Bilson

Oh, Rachel:

Why so Amish? Why are you hiding your lithe little light under a bushel? (I am including your bangs in the bushel, by the way.) Have you contracted a terrible disease which makes your skin shrivel up should Anna Wintour gaze upon it? Have you taken a vow of extreme modesty? Are you in the midst of a secret but terribly steamy love affair which has left your entire body riddled with hickeys? Are you just really cold?  I HAVE to know.

Posted by Jessica at 09:57 AM in Met Ball, Rachel Bilson | Permalink

Met Ball Fug Carpet: Tilda Swinton

The theme for this year's Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute Gala (or, as it is known by nobody, MMACIG) was "Superheroes." And if there is one working actress today whom I'd expect to take that theme and wring it out like a disobedient washcloth, it would be Tilda Swinton -- or as I like to call her, Most Likely To Arrive In The Actual Iron Man Outfit, Complete With Helmet.

And yet:

She has the helmet part on track, thanks to a stylist with four cans of hairspray and an itchy trigger finger. Her makeup artist even got the metallic sheen down pat. So why is the rest of her dressed like she's on her way to her cousin's third wedding in the garden of the vicar's cottage? Tilda Swinton is the person who'd show up as Catwoman Wearing Her Wonder Woman Costume, with a jacket made of Plastic Man and Flash Gordon's head on her lapel. Unless that orange brooch turns out to be some kind of poisoned throwing star that decapitates demons from hell, this is depressingly tame.

At the very least, I'd have been satisfied if Tilda had turned up in something like this:

I am pretty sure this costume belongs to one of the lounge singers aboard the Starship Enterprise. Someone should tell A-Dubs that "science fiction" and "superheroes" aren't quite synonymous themes... but, you know what? She's the hostess; she makes the rules. And let's face it, Anna is a superhero in her own universe, plus she allegedly can make grown people weep with a single twitch of her eyebrow. Sounds like an otherworldly power to me. AND that thing has a built-in neck pillow for greater comfort when she takes a catnap in the bathroom stall halfway through the party. Brilliant.

Posted by Heather at 09:12 AM in Met Ball | Permalink

 

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