I can only pray that she also got this in white for the wedding.
This is certainly not the worst Miley has looked — I think we all know from embarrassingly many years of Cyrus-spotting that she has come leaps and bounds in this regard — but at the end of the day, she’s still just wearing a giant blazer like she thinks she’s half of the Talking Heads. Specifically, the upper half.
This was NOT at Coachella (thank God!) and yet it probably should have been:
Listen, Miley. Just because it’s shorts, and there is a little fabric perenium yoking front to back, does not mean it still can’t be TOO SHORT in a very yelpy and capsy way. Also, it’s insane. I think that’s what He-Man sees behind his eyelids when he sleeps, assuming he isn’t busy having nightmares about forgetting to buy enough “Just For Men: Sunshine Formula” and thus blowing his whole carefully crafted cover identity.
[Photo: Pacific Coast News]
Heather and I have noted before that we are prone to a kind of Stockholm Syndrome with the people we fug. You cover them long enough and the next thing you know, you have developed — AGAINST YOUR WILL — a kind of fondness for them. Or, as in my case with Vanessa Hudgens, thanks to her Run of Insanity in the current Fug Madness, you fall in love with them. It’s not a I Want To Make Out With You love, as much as it is an I Want to Clap My Hands With Glee Over Your Wardrobe; Please Never Change kind of love, but LOVE IT IS. And the point is, I think I’m falling in love with Miley similarly. It all started when she chowed down at a food truck, where all great romances begin, with bonus points for how terrible The Last Song is. Mix that all up in your mind blender and here we are — I think she might look kind of good, but I have NO IDEA if I can trust my own judgement. LOOK AND JUDGE:
Remember when we wondered if the haircut and the demure Oscars gown would herald a classier Miley Cyrus?
Hope dies eternal.
Although I guess congratulations are in order for her snagging a hostessing gig at the world’s first taco joint for belly dancers. Don’t order the bottomless tortilla chips. It might be a double entendre.