Keen Fuggie

Here’s the thing. I just don’t get Sienna Miller. I don’t. I know she’s supposed to be this Charming Boho Princess, and we’re all supposed to admire her and love her and want to emulate her and dress in similarly sloppy boho-ian outfits, complete with, like boots stolen from a sherpa or something, and sure, I know she’s boning Jude Law, and good for her, because he’s hot, despite the fact that he’s been dressing like a shipwrecked maitre d’ lately.

But come on:

Are you kidding me? Even the woman behind her is all, “I’m wearing culottes, and I look better than she does.” This outfit is not okay.  This outfit is, like, living in a yurt on the outskirts of the Siberia of okay.

Why is everything she’s wearing all chopped up? Is this — perish the thought — Federline-chic making its way across the pond? Was she watching Chaotic one night and suddenly thought to herself, “damn, those manpris are HOT. I suddenly feel the need to saw the hems off everything I own!”  Is there no end to the horror that El Federlino hath wrought? Can’t we stop the madness?