World Music Awards: Well Played, Alicia Keys

It’s unusual for me to wake up on a Monday feeling chipper. Yet here I am, not only in a good mood, but also feeling relieved and proud and even a tough smug.

Why, you ask? Because my intervention WORKED.

Look how hot Alicia Keys is! Yes, she could use a meatball or three, but some of that might just be the angle of the photograph. But please, celebrate with me: She’s wearing a dress that FITS. In an awesome color. With simple but striking makeup. And I want her purse.

But wait. It gets better. Because unlike other awards shows, where she started out strong and then climbed through the looking glass, here Alicia showed actual restraint:

Alicia Keys, a woman who most of the time treats jumpsuits like they’re uniforms and the stage as if it’s the capital of Camel-Toe Country, is singing and looking hot AT THE SAME TIME. No pants are chafing her nethers; no high-waisted nightmare is pinching her waist. I’m so pleased I could shed a tiny, tiny tear made of 70 percent salt water and 30 percent Diet Coke.

This must be exactly how Dr. Drew Pinsky feels when he
explains to Gary Busey that Gary is totally self-destructive and f’ed up inside, and then sees Tawny
Kitaen widen her eyes in astounded comprehension, as if he’s just translated Ant and Bee Go Shopping from English into slightly less polysyllabic English. And just like Dr. Drew, Alicia Keys doesn’t care about my opinion, and she’ll probably go right back to her same old bad habits in about three hours. But for now I am at peace.  Bless.