Fugger: Tilda Swinton

SWFUGTON


If you are not on Twitter, nor Facebook, nor in our psychic friends network, then you may have missed the fact that SWINTON was on our flight out to Newark for Fashion Week. She was sitting less than ten feet away from us in the airport lounge, talking on her phone and looking profoundly SWINTONian in baggy black ankle-cut pants and a loose jacket, without a speck of makeup. It was majestic. I will never be the same, and fully expect to wake up any day now with an irresistible urge to wear bathrobes as outerwear.

Like so:

If only she’d been wearing this on our plane. The Fug Nation Twitterverse was disappointed enough to learn that she doesn’t travel by a) teleportation, or b) Pegasus; imagine how heartbroken it was to learn she looked casually SWINTONian and not resplendently wacktasculariously so. I hope this compensates. I mean… it’s been worse, but it is still a robe, and it does have drunken tuxedo lapels. So that’s something. We will take this bone and we will gnaw on it merrily until such time as she throws us another scrap. Such is our relationship. Such is SWINTON.

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Fab The Cover/Fab The SWINTON: SWINTON


I love this, irrespective of my feelings for Lady Wackenhut herself. On a newsstand level, it’s effective: stark, uncluttered, arresting. I don’t know if Tilda is going to arrest some dude, play poker with him, or fit him for cement shoes. And I like it that way. But the cover is just the tip of the SWINTONberg — if you want to see her cacophonous awesomeness in action, click through to see the photos from the interior W spread. They will wreck you like the Titanic. Except in a good way and with fewer sad string musicians.

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Well Played, SWINTON


Who could this tall, gorgeous drink of water be? (Pretend you didn’t just read the title of this post.)

This is unexpectedly glamorous for SWINTON. I mean, she is a glamorous life-form, but that glamour often translates to her wearing, you know, sculptural Hefty bags and giant androgynous suits like the lost member of the Talking Heads.

Whereas this is VA VA VA VOOM

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Fug Madness Round Two, Madonna Bracket


(3) LEONA LEWIS vs. (6) FLORENCE WELCH

Since we saw a lot of Leona’s CRAZED and CRACKED OUT Out and About looks in her last game, let’s take a look at her on stage for this one:

That’s like what would happen if she somehow got cast in a gender-bending version of Phantom of the Opera. Which, now that I’ve thought of this, I NEED it to happen. Bieber can be Christine! He seems like the sort to get dragged down to someone’s basement/lake lair and secretly kind of like it.

This is what she’d wear if…I was going to say, “she got cast in a musical about 80s hair metal,” but I guess the real end of that sentence is, “if she ends up in Rock of Ages.”

LOOK!

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Fug Madness 2011, Round One: Madonna Bracket


FIRST, some housekeeping: Some of you are having issues with the polls working correctly! Please know that our tech dudes are working on it, but we have stumbled upon something that may help, if you find the polls coming up “closed” or if they seem to think you have already voted and you haven’t: apparently, if you comment on the post, the system will then let you vote? Clearly this is a bug, and we promise we’re at work on it, BUT that might work while we’re waiting. Plus, don’t you want to talk anyway? YOU KNOW YOU DO. ANYWAY: hopefully, you will have no technical problems as you vote on THE FOLLOWING:

(6) FLORENCE WELCH v. (11) KRISTEN STEWART

Don’t ask me why we weren’t paying closer attention to Florence Welch — or, as I’ve started thinking of her, FloWel (Flow Well?) — throughout the year. Because she is a CONTENDER:

A contender who never met a sheer overskirt that she didn’t fall MADLY in love with. Don’t believe me?

YOU SHOULD:

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BAFTA Fug Carpet: SWINTON


SWINTON wants to lull you into a false sense of security.

SWINTON

She wants you to think, “What a stylish lady in her suit.” She wants you to believe that’s all there is. She wantsyour digressions to be limited to, “I would totally let that woman do my taxes. But it’s tragic what happened to her feet. Sweet God, though, she’s tall, so if her pants are STILL hiding shoes, HOW LONG ARE THEY? Would they fit an NBA player? Are they Amar’e Stoudamire’s pants? Is she a Knicks fan? Can she grease the wheels of this Carmelo Anthony thing, please?” Because then, when she turns around, she will REALLY blow the lid off your mental Tupperware.

And maybe your actual Tupperware

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