OH UMA.
Remember the person who was dressing you for Cannes? CALL HER. CALL HER NOW.
Every superhero and super-villain has that one thing that can destroy them, you know? Like, for Superman, it’s kryptonite. For the Wicked Witch of the West, it’s an otherwise innocent bucket of water. For Lord Voldemort, it’s — SPOILER, although, honestly, you HAVE to be done with that book by now — love.
And for me, Super Fug Girl 2, it’s this:
To quote the great one: I’M MELTING.
Last night, something happened in Hollywood. The men came out. And they looked…well, let’s get real, you guys: They looked totally cracked out. I don’t know if there’s some new hallucinogen in the water, or if these dudes have finally collapsed under the pressure of the fact that the holidays are coming at us like that runaway train in that movie where Denzel is wry and heroic and Chris Pine is young and sassy, but SOMETHING is up.
Stacy Fugbler
Wow. From glorified shapewear, to glorified running tights.
The shirt and the jacket don’t really work together either — it’s all too conflictingly shiny and monochromatic — but if she’d thrown it on with some skinny jeans, we’d have less to discuss. The fact that she’s wearing it with those… listen, if anyone in the world has “LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS” embroidered on a throw-pillow in his lady’s dressing chamber, it’s Intern George. Maybe he accidentally let that one in Lake Como.
[Photo: INF]
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