The strange thing was that everyone wasn’t told to go home as soon as this feathery vision of dusty pink gluh-moore whipped his boa train on the carpet. Why even bother going on with the 2017 CFDA Awards when it was already shut down by an exquisite bejeweled pink ostrich? I’m sure that is a question that fashion professors will ponder with their students for years to come.
The brown-haired, dead-eyed wooden model named Bella Hadid is currently at Cannes. And the other brown-haired, dead-eyed wooden model named Emily RideAJetski is also at Cannes, and at yesterday’s premier of Nelyubov, she dropped massive amounts of black lace under-titty classiness on the red carpet. That’s a whole lot of look, but it’s Cannes! If you’re not delivering a whole lot of look, take your ass to the People’s Choice Awards. Although, since Emily is permanently suffering from a severe case of dehydration, she’d wear this to the People’s Choice Awards too.
It looks like some of the worst trends simultaneously caca’d all over Emily. Underboob? Check! Chichis window? Check! Nude illusion? Check!
On I Love Lucy, Lucy would sometimes wear this glamorous sheer housecoat thing over cigarette pants and it was a perfect vision of elegance, and Emily RideAJetSki’s look is like the NastyDress.com version of that. This is something Sophia Loren would’ve worn back in the day if she was tacky, on a budget and suffered from narcolepsy so she needed a fluffy duvet handy for quick naps.
And just when you thought that Emily RideAJetSki reached the pinnacle of elegance with this look, she faced the front and showed off a crotch seam that looks like a never-ending sparkly landing strip (see: first picture in the gallery and prepare to be hit by the classiness of it all).
Here’s more from the Nelyubov premiere and I also threw in pictures from today’s Okja premiere because I just couldn’t ignore Tilda Swinton looking like a glorious albino alien mother of the bride.
Pics: Backgrid, Wenn.com
Every year, there’s always a giant chunk of celebrities at the Met Gala who completely wet fart on the theme and go with their own, which is usually: Rejected Dresses Leftover From Awards Season. Even Anna Wintour showed up to this year’s Met Gala in some dusty dress that Carol Channing definitely wore a million times better in the 1960s (see: Anna Wintour in the gallery below looking like a sad lamp from Liberace’s least favorite guest room). While watching the Vogue live feed of the Met Gala last night, some bland, I forgot who, said something about how she wanted to be comfortable. Bitch, if you want to be comfortable, stay at home in your sweats and t-shirt and watch the live feed while sitting on your futon like the rest of us do! You’re doing the Met Gala completely wrong if it doesn’t take six assistants, a registered nurse, a long plastic hose, a thing of KY and a janitor with a mop to help you piss.
But in last night’s sea of basic (see: the sea of basic in the gallery after the cut), there were a few bright spots of fuckery who actually paid attention in class when the theme was given. Enter: RiRi!
Ryan Seacrest, the evil goblin who was born after a satanic leprechaun jizzed on a piece of foil covered with peroxide cream, is reportedly dating a girl. I’ll let Brit Brit Spears, once again, take it from here:
E! News says that the uncanny valley gremlin has got himself a new piece, three years after things ended with Julianne Hough. Their source says that 41-year-old Ryan and 35-year-old model Adriana Lima, who broke up with her hot possum-eyed husband two years ago, went on a “romantic” date at a restaurant called Dell’Anima in NYC over the weekend after hanging out in Rio during the Olympics. The details of this “romantic” date are about as shallow as Ryan’s personality, so we’ll just have to make shit up on our own.
August is usually the month people set their brains to “Fuck it, it’s summer” and do the bare minimum required to keep the train rolling. But not at Forbes magazine. They have been busy adding up the dollars made by famous people last year.
Last week we learned that for the second year in a row Forbes named Jennifer Lawrence the highest-paid actress in the world, and that The Rock was the highest-paid actor. Forbes released another list of super rich people, and this time it’s the world’s highest-paid models of 2016. If your bank account crawled into a corner and cried after seeing how much money JLaw and The Rock made for playing pretend, well, you better go set up a nice blanket in its favorite corner. Because Gisele Bundchen also made a whole lot of money.
It was very nice of Betsey Johnson to remove her name from the nominees list, and therefore give people like Beyonce a fighting chance at taking home the CFDA’s Fashion Icon award. I’m assuming that’s what happened. Betsey Johnson has always been my favorite fashion weirdo. Even when I was very little and my knowledge of fashion was limited to skorts and whatever the look is called when you loop the bottom of a t-shirt through the neck hole, I knew that she was the definition of effortless, carefree WTF style. Effortless, because she always looks like she put in zero effort. Carefree, because I’m sure she’s free of cares when it comes to what anybody thinks about her. And WTF, because I still cannot figure out what the fuck is going on with those glue-in hair extension.
Betsey brought her carefree WTF style to the CFDA Awards last night. Betsey Johnson gave everyone “getting-her-groove-back grandma” mixed with Janice the Muppet and a side of boxed wine buzz. She’s on vacation from all her worries and troubles and the collection agency that won’t stop calling and demanding payment for that pesky overdue TJ Maxx credit card bill, and she doesn’t care who knows it! Betsey looks like she’s about to climb over the bar at her all-inclusive Mexican resort, grab a bottle of rum and a handful of limes, and smoker-bark over to her friends Buffy, Bambi, and Binky: “See you in the pool!” I want to be this version of Betsey Johnson when I grow up.
Of course, there always has to be a runner-up in the Pageant of Life, and I choose to give that honor to Selma Blair.