If anyone else showed up in this, I would be all, “Nice toga, LOSER.”
Okay, except maybe for J.Lo, who — wouldn’t you agree? — is practically The Block’s answer to Cate Blanchett anyway. But Cate Blancett is cool, and possibly from the future, and I feel like she kind of makes her High Fashion Night With Polyphonic Spree thing work. I mean, maybe it’ll turn out that we’re all wearing fantastically colored togas in the future….right?
We still question the wisdom of an already incredibly slim woman losing more weight just for a role, which is evidently what Cate Blanchett’s game has been. But we’re pretty sure she’s going to do it no matter what we say, on account of the fact that we don’t know her, have never talked to her, and suspect she hasn’t had time to play around on the Internet since back when it was called the “information superhighway” and we were all making hilarious acceleration, speeding, and traffic puns.
Ergo, I’m at least pleased to see Cate finding some work-arounds that downplay the fact that her collarbone is about a day away from breaking skin.
With her shoulders covered, she looks distinctly less like a starving alien who’s come to Earth to feast upon our amusingly primitive blood. It’s much more relaxing.
Our love-hate relationship with Cate Blanchett’s fashion sense is rather well documented in the GFY archives, so we’re always excited to see what she’s going to wear on the red carpet — adore it or abhor it, we’re never indifferent, and that’s at least one victory right there.
This year, “love” won. And so I present a series of affectionate haiku-style poems dedicated to her achievement.
Cate loves metallics
like I love potato chips.
But, can’t wear those. Boo.
Sexy iron sheath
makes Camelot wish chain mail
could look this gorgeous.
She’s a tall, frosty
steel-wool milkshake, minus the
wool. Plus chocolate.
Fair skin is in, yay!
Ditch the bronzer, orange freaks.
Cate proves paleness rocks.
Out of Diet Coke.
Sad. Tortured. Crushed. Off-topic.
Cate: Bring me one? Please?
Guess it’s errand time
For Intern George. Cans, please, love!
Plus, I should post this.
Even with that Madonna-chic lace sausage-casing around her arms, my least favorite thing about Cate’s gown is the uneven hem. It’s the fashion equivalent of a mullet: party in the front, business in the back. And let’s face it — where Fergie’s gone, others should fear to tread.
@wondertwinA Depends -- are you Vanessa Hudgens?
Cate Fugchett…?
It feels like 90 percent of the time we flip the Fug or Fab coin, it’s because of something Cate Blanchett has worn — which is one major reason we love her; the woman is never boring, nor is she afraid of anything. Not even our fictional Fug or Fab coin. Which, if it existed, would probably have either Intern George or a pair of Louboutins on one side, and leggings or a picture of Sienna Miller’s closet on the other. Maybe there are two coins. Maybe we flip one of them to decide what goes on the other. Or maybe I need to climb out of this wormhole before it gives me insomnia.
Anyway: Cate. She’s crazy. Or is she? Yes, she is. Unless she isn’t.
Gorgeous face. Love the blowout. She glows. And you can’t deny that dress has major drama, even if it does leave an odd amount of room for her to have a full pelvic cast tucked away under there, or perhaps a pony keg. But the bodice scares the bejeesus out of me. It feels a tiny bit like Lil’ Kim gone couture, as if one of Cate’s breasts MIGHT pop out with a pasty on it that’s patterned after an Elizabethan ruff.
It is a rare day indeed when Cate Blanchett and Lil’ Kim get to appear in the same post, but now that we’re here, maybe we should take it a step further and arrange a rollicking tea party so that they can discuss the acquisition and application of matching high-fashion nipple covers, the appropriate length for a slit up your leg, and the underlying thematic similarities of She’s All That and Elizabeth. You know — Queen Liz the First got a makeunder and became one of the greatest monarchs England has known; Laney Boggs took off her glasses and bought high-heels and became… a really sort of marginally better-than-awful artist with nice cleavage. They’re practically the same story.
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