At this point, exactly WHAT Angelina wears to a premiere is secondary to my imaginings about how she and Brad script their red-carpet stroll. They’re like the anti-Ben and Jen, who don’t like to bother with the togetherness routine at all, perhaps because they are trying to avoid having fake dialogues written by a bunch of bloggers with fingers steeped in sass. I can’t imagine why they might fear that. But if you’re wondering, no, it’s not my favorite Angelina outfit, and yes, you will get to see the entire thing, and YES, Johnny Depp is involved.
First of all, if they ever really do make that live-action movie about Maleficent, Angelina IS perfect for it:
In this particular outfit, she’s also perfect for the role of:
- Bloomingdale’s most prolific/irritatingly gorgeous glove saleswomen.
- a woman who knows she could commit murder at ANY MOMENT and thus has equipped herself to NEVER leave fingerprints ANYWHERE.
- someone with a tragic and rare disorder wherein ONLY her hands and forearms are allergic to sunlight.
- a lady with a neurotic, near-debilitating fear of losing her gloves.
- Alexis Morrell Carrington Colby Dexter Dexter Rowan
- Joan Collins in the film adaptation of Joan Collins: I’m Joan F’ing Collins, a book I just now decided to write.
- a cat-burglar, duh. Who only cat-burgles with her arms, because who could clamber over window sills in that skirt?
- a smack-prone woman who worries that slapping men across the face with her gloves isn’t painful enough, but slapping them bare-handed is just too gauche.
- someone married to a dude with a previously undiscovered glove fetish. Quick, someone call TMZ!
Angelina Jolie might be the only person who loves a caftan more than those beloved icons of American comedic mastery, The Golden Girls. She cherishes dresses that look like robes, be they in black, or grey, or blackish grey, or greyish black, or muddy grey… and then, sometimes in white, presumably for when she wants you to think she’s angelic and pure and totally innocent of anything you might have read about her anywhere. Her stylist seems to have made it her signature skill to find dresses that are demonstrably different, yet feel exactly the same. Now, as to why Angelina doesn’t want to have more fun with her closet, well, I can only assume she’s too busy sitting around at home thinking about Darfur or typesetting a sample peace treaty she just thought up, or lactating the milk of human kindness into bottles made of recycled glass and her own tears. You know how it is — when Us Weekly is Team Jennifer, you have to pull out all the stops so that People will remain firmly in Camp Jolie-Pitt.
Let’s take a tour through some pictures — and an imaginary dialogue — of Angie and Brad at the premiere of The Tourist to see what we think of her choice for her big on-screen union with Johnny Depp. Personally, I think she looks kind of glamorous in this particular getup, but maybe she’s just lulled me into submission. Take a tour through the slideshow — the best full-shot is the last slide (sorry, that wasn’t on purpose) — and then report back with your vote on this matter of national importance.
WILL: What are you WEARING, Angie? Velvet pants and a brothel’s modesty curtain?
BRAD: Is THAT what we were yo’ing and dudeing?
WILL: Well, YEAH.
BRAD: Yo, dude, I wouldn’t have yo’d or duded that, dude.
WILL: Well, what did you think I was doing?
BRAD: I thought maybe you believed I’d just parachuted down from an aviation adventure, or blown in on a hot air balloon powered by a flying motorcycle, or something.
WILL: Well, obviously, I completely understand why you thought I would jump to that conclusion.
ANGELINA: Am I pregnant again?
BRAD: No idea.
ANGELINA: I WASN’T ASKING YOU.
WILL: Why would I know?
ANGELINA: I thought maybe you subscribed to In Touch.
WILL: Can we… can we just start this over?
WILL: Yo!… No, doesn’t feel right. I’m going inside.
BRAD: Well, I’m going to grab my cape and go for a ride on the moors with a lantern, and maybe find a headless dude.
ANGIE: Neat! I’m going to go inside and see if anybody has a copy of OK, so I can find out whether you and Jennifer are secretly having dinner when you’re CLAIMING you’re off riding on the moors with decapitated wanderers.
WILL: Backing away.
“Sigh. I miss Coat,” thinks Angelina.
“I come all the way to Europe, and no one can muster up any amusing replacement titles for Salt that either look funny or translate to something overly literal? Like, Crystallized Yum Spice Runs To Live, or Help! The Lady Spy Is Hunted! or something? Well, if they can’t make the effort, then neither will I. You want Salt, France? Then welcome to Bored, Poorly Be-fringed Famous Hungry Person Wears ’70s Mourning Nightgown. Sucks to be you.”
[Photo: Splash News]
MERE HOURS after I waxed on and on about how Angie never wears color more than once in a blue moon, she has to pop out wearing blue. THE VERY COLOR I NAME CHECKED. This must be how Aniston feels. The very moment she thinks she has a handle on what’s going on with the Brangelina situation (even if said handle is, “I don’t care”), they CHANGE IT UP on her. It makes a girl feel very off-kilter! Anyway, Angelina, you look nice. Now, if I say that Intern George never lets me use his Lake Como villa, either, will you do something about that as well?