I seriously feel like this is one of those things where you’re all, “so close….AND THEN SO FAR AWAY” — as, in just one moment, what seems so promising turns…alarming. Take a journey with me, Fug Nation.
Fugger: Rachel McAdams
This is a fairly nice choice for Rachel, if perhaps a familiar one — we all know I have the memory banks of a particularly tiny yam, so I’m sure I’ve even possibly written about it before in another color and simply don’t recall it because it happened more than two hours ago. The piled-high hair, I’m not as sure about, but I think my biggest issue is that I’d have loved to see this on her in another setting entirely. Somebody from Camp McAdams should’ve gotten briefed on the setting, so that Rachel could’ve avoided completely matching the backdrop — kind of blunts the impact of a big red dress, big red lips, and big (non-red, but that would’ve been awesome) hair. And as you’ll see in the slideshow, blending into one’s surroundings can have very… complicated… side effects.
I started out planning to give this a Well Played:
It fits, she looks shapely, the shoes are sassy, her hair is nice and not pink… but then I noticed that I think the shoes are actually translucent (are those toes I see before me?) and something about her makeup isn’t sitting quite right with me — she doesn’t look dewy so much as perhaps like she doesn’t feel great and was rallying through a head cold — and then of course I can NEVER decide if the crinkled style is flattering in this instance or an ill-advised ode to the accordion. And that leaves me with cold feet.
I love this on Rachel:
Not a sentiment I ever thought I’d attach to something that is ostensibly inspired by the watercolor. But it’s a good reminder that while watercolors are something we often associate with crappy paintings in three-star beach motels, they’re also the work of, you know, great artists and whatnot. RMcA looks flirty and romantic, but not dowdy, or as though she’s wearing a shower curtain, which was definitely the risk with this one. It’s so nice to see her back in fine fettle once more.
** Comments are now open — sorry for the screw-up…
I suppose I should thank Rachel McAdams for giving us material to work with, treating every Sherlock Holmes screening like it’s the first. Or, indeed, for showing up at all. I know Sarah Jessica Parker has babies and all, but she made it to that one I’m Guessing You Heard About The Morgans But You Just Don’t Care That Much premiere and then left Hugh Grant to do all the foreign press appearances alone, which: BOO. It’s not like your absence will make us forget you participated in the move, SJP.
Anyway: McAdams. Always so close.
The dress fits, and I like the concept, but I’m increasingly off-put by beige — in general, but especially on fair-skinned people. Tread carefully with beige, y’all. It’s helped by the pretty and intriguing cut of the dress, but hurt by how the bit hanging from hip just looks like an extra strip of Ace bandage. And although Rachel is TRYING not to look washed-out, what with the orange lipstick and all that eye pencil, in the end she just looks a little nutty. And not entirely like herself. Actually, in a weird way, her wide smile and semi-possessed eyes kind of remind me of Starbuck on Battlestar Galactica, on a slightly manic day. Which may have been all of them; I don’t know. I am only on season one.
My proposal: Better hair, make the dress a rich color, and adjust the makeup accordingly. Truly a fantasy. What would you do? Have at it in the comments, but remember the usual rules apply: no in-fighting, no trolling, no shirt, no shoes, no service.
I think this one might be pretty easy — in reference to the dress, not to the lady.
If we sheared off the teal leg of mutton masking her left arm, I think we’d have something here. I’d also like to scrap the hairdo and suggest that she go brunette again, because other than when she was Regina George, I’ve always preferred her with dark hair. While we’re on the subject, I would like to borrow her skin, force her to come over and gossip about Lindsay Lohan, and make it so that she and Intern George have a torrid five-year affair that produces just enough children that his DNA lives on through eternity. But I guess for now we should start with refashioning the dress. Am I right in wanting to banish the sleeve to a fiery hell-cave? Or CAN the sleeve work, and if so, how? Or, indeed, does it work already? Once we solve this, the other dominoes will fall. I’m looking at you, Intern George.