Billboard Music Awards Fug Carpet: Danity Kane

Danity Kane reminds me of a line of dolls — like Bratz meets Barbie — whenever I see them. They feel so literally manufactured that it’s hard to remember that they are each individual people, with individual feelings and motivations, as surely they must be:

Like maybe the one in the middle didn’t want to dress like she just came from a Sharon-Tate-in-Valley of the Dolls-inspired lingerie ad. Maybe she wanted to wear the shiny, shiny dress on the end, which someone hemmed until it looks like something the protagonist would wear in the final scene of Ice Princess II, when she has to go out and skate the performance of a lifetime or else Communism will prevail.  (For serious, Sarah Jessica Parker wore that dress sometime in the last year, and it was about, oh, six inches longer.)

And maybe the one in the coffee-colored nightgown — seriously, it’s very romantic for your trousseau, but leave that in the hope chest — would rather switch outfits with the Trumpet of the Swan over on the other end. She might be covered in feathers, but at least she’s covered.

Sadly, no one wants to be the one who looks like she ripped the gray taffeta tablecloth off the dressing table of the girl with the hope chest and belted it. Not even her.