This is doing bad, bad things to my hangover. All those fugly patterns. It looks like the scrap bin at a Jo-Ann Fabric got explosive diarrhea.
At last night’s 55-hour-long act of violent torture we call the Emmys, almost everybody wore a yawn of dress that should only be worn at a Christian high school prom in the South (see: Carrie Underwears), so Lena Dunham gets points for trying to be different. But this is the wrong kind of different. This is some “trying to look as messy as possible by wearing a tablecloth from the home decor section of Burlington Coat Factory” hipster shit. That hair looks like it was cut with safety scissors by a pre-schooler with severe ADHD and it makes her look like the words “by Mercer Mayer” should be over her head. And that dress. It’s like she went to Prada, who made this shit, handed them a picture of King-Size Homer’s muumuu and said, “Give me the gown version of THIS!” It looks like a tent and I bet if you peeked in there, you’d find 4 Brooklyn squatters sharing a roach joint in there. But I do love her eye makeup, because it makes her eyes look like cicadas shedding their shells. If all else fails, make your eyes look like a scene out of Planet Earth.
Here’s Lena and her mom paying tribute to St. Angie and James Haven by kissing lips on the red carpet and also pictures of Zosia Mamet, Allison Williams and Adam Driver.