Fug Love

Usually, I can count on Chloe Sevigny for one of two things: looking shockingly awesome, or — more often — wearing something so weird that it reminds me all over again how she was one of the original icons of fuggery back when we started the site, thus enabling me to throw a cathartic tantrum. Rarely does she snooze it up for us by landing somewhere in between, and yet, I can feel the yawn rising in my chest:

Not that it’s GOOD. No. Just that, given how Chloe’s inspiration these days seems to be seasons 1-4 of 90210, it comes as no surprise to me that she’s wearing wide-legged business trousers that, say, Brenda would’ve worn with a tie and Doc Martens while she was screaming at Kelly never to speak to her again. I’m mildly alarmed that it looks like she threw the pants on after synchronized-swimming practice, and the hair and makeup are doing her no favors, but overall it bores me. She’s The Sev. Chloe Sofugny. Madam Fugigny. She has the skills! She ought to be wearing a dowdy housedress over the pants that’s belted with a steering wheel. As it is… this is a poor use of her unique and special talents as an artisan of fug.

Although, in a way, that flares up my dormant righteous rage as much as anything. Yes, I think this outfit is lousy, but I’m also cranky that it’s a LAZY form of lousy. Sack UP, SEV. Bust out your feathered hot pants and granny’s high-necked lace blouses. Dust off your plaid spandex body-glove and paisley tutu. You were a Fug Madness semi-finalist, for Bjork’s sake! Don’t let your awful be so ordinary. DON’T YOU SEE WE NEED YOU?

Phew. I guess I sort of got my tantrum after all.