My So-Called Fug

I seriously do not know how these sort of things continue to happen:

I don’t mean that I don’t understand why Claire Danes continues to get invited places, or why people perform dramatic, hair-flipping turns toward the camera. I mean…well, you’ll see after the jump. It’s Not Totally Safe For Work. I mean, it’s not FULL-ON unsafe, but I wouldn’t email it to your boss or anything. Things are revealed which would be pixelated on network television, is what I mean.

I’d be complaining that her little sheer capelet was too matronly, if she weren’t currently the mayor of Nipsville. I can’t believe Claire knew this would happen, but I also don’t know how she DIDN’T know if might happen. It’s 2009! HOW MANY NIPPLES MUST ASSAULT US BEFORE PEOPLE REALIZE THEY NEED TO DO A FLASH TEST BEFORE THEY LEAVE THE HOUSE? It’s one thing for you or me to accidentally go all Nipples Ahoy in pictures from, say, someone’s birthday party, but at this point in, like, THE HISTORY OF HUMANITY, I find it very very hard to believe that someone’s stylist would drop the ball on something like this. (I know whereof I speak. I watched ALL of The Rachel Zoe Project, and now I’m watching Styl’d. If you have a reality show about stylists, apparently I will watch it.) Which makes me think Ms Danes may have decided that what her wan career needed to perk it up was a little nipple injection. And I guess it’s worked. I mean, here we are.