I can only imagine the disappointed thoughts Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen are telepathically communicating to each other as they watch people walk the Met Gala red carpet. If had to guess, it was probably something along these lines:
“So much nude illusion fabric. And the sequins – so many sequins. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I too am feeling ill, sister. Fetch me a fainting squirrel, I shall need to lie down.”
The Met Gala really isn’t the Met Gala until fashion’s creepiest pocket goths make an appearance. I was excited to see if they would wear something in keeping with the theme, but of course they didn’t. DUH! Mary Kate and Ashley showed up in the same floor-length body-swallowing black sadness sacks they always wear. I’m sure there’s a high-fashion word for whatever they’re wearing, but I’m scared I can’t afford to even look it up online. Whatever they’re wearing, I’m sure it’s very expensive and was made from the finest of endangered spider hairs and antique mourning lace.
Or maybe they’re dressed all in black as a not-so-subtle “You are DEAD to us” message to John Stamos.
And here’s what feels like everyone else from last night, but is really just 1/98th of the people there. Fucking everyone went to that Met Gala. I bet the rats behind Guy Fieri’s restaurant got dressed up in little rat-sized tuxedos and went too. Anyway, most were pretty boring, but some people brought it. AnnE Hathaway looked like a shimmery tapeworm, Dakota Johnson looked like the backsplash tile model from a home improvement show, and Anna Wintour looked like a street corner sign waver mascot for an opium den (don’t worry, I barely know what that means either).
Sorry, but I’m not referring to Anna Wintour or that roided-up right arm of hers (seriously, she looks like she was cobbled together using the spare parts from a He-Man doll, and I am concerned). I’m talking about Harper Seven Beckham, who dragged her family to something called the Burberry ‘London in Los Angeles’ event last night. I know Harper is barely able to count to 20, but she’s already more sophistimacated than I’ll ever be. People says that during the show, an “insider” tells them Harper used her platform as the unofficial queen of the front row (sorry, Kanye) to school all those déclassé tricks on how to pick your nose like a lady:
“David doted on her the entire time, stroking her hair and chatting back and forth as she pointed things out on the runway. She would even clap along when everyone else did. At one point, she (I assume) told him she needed to pick her nose because he held up his hand to cover her face while she did so, then laughed after she was done and was wiping her nose.”
And here I am blowing mine, farmer-style, into a used McDonald’s cheeseburger wrapper. Harper Seven should really consider pestering her mommy to invest some of her Spice World residual checks in a finishing school, because some of us could greatly benefit from her mentorship.
Sadly, there are no pictures of Harper and her family arriving at that Burberry event last night, but here’s everyone else. I want to say it was some kind of fancy British fashion event, but that would be a lie, because the fanciest British person I’m aware of, Hyacinth Bucket, was not in attendance. Instead, we have Naomi Campbell, Cara Della Reese, Ryan Seacrest, and a very pregnant Jaime “Not That Ja’mie King” King.
Whenever I think of people who wear sunglasses indoors, I think of two things: douchebags who love attention and Jack Nicholson at the Oscars. But since the sedated horny badger wasn’t there last night, someone had to take his place as The Person Wearing Sunglasses Indoors For No Good Goddamn Reason, and it appears that person was Anna Wintour. I don’t know what’s more confusing: that Anna Wintour is wearing a pair of gas station sunglasses indoors, or that she was invited to the Oscars. Even Harvey Weinstein is like “So, you feel cold…are you related to the statue or something?”
When the camera panned into the audience and I saw Anna Wintour sitting there looking like the unsalted soda cracker version of Cookie Lyon, all I could think of was just how distracting she must have been for everyone on stage looking down at her; she looks like the Upper West Side old money aunt of Cyclops from The X-Men. I have no idea why she’s wearing sunglasses indoors like she is, but I’m just going to assume it has something to do with not drawing suspicion when a young type would walk on stage and her eyes would get all firey red and excited from the sight of young blood.
And because up is down and nothing makes any sense with that woman, here she is posing for pictures with her daughter Bee Shaffer outside before the show without her sunglasses:
3-year-old Harper Seven Beckham sat in the front row with her daddy and brothers at her mom’s New York Fashion Week show today (click here if you care what the clothes look like), and unlike North West, she didn’t scream in pain, because she’s used to this boring fashion shit and she’s a little older. The first time Harper the Seventh sat next to the devil that is Anna Wintour at her mom’s fashion show, the Death Eaters declared it a tragic moment in history, because she actually smiled at an innocent soul. There are places down in Hell that still haven’t thawed out from Anna Wintour showing kindness to another human being. Well, the Death Eaters don’t have to be ashamed of Anna today, because she didn’t fall for Harper’s “adorable innocent child” act this time! Anna Wintour is crossing her arms and thinking to herself, “Don’t do it, Anna, or Kunty Karl will never stop cackling.”
There should be a new Fashion Week rule. If you want to bring your kid, you have to sit them next to Anna Wintour, because whenever she’s next to a child she looks about as comfortable as Mama June sitting next to a healthy salad bar. Children at fashion shows will be Anna Wintour’s demise! Harper Seven won the last round by making Anna Wintour smile and she won this round too by throwing a “How long have you been working the same look, honey?” look.
Here’s more of Harper Seven looking seven layers of bored at her mom’s show and also looking more stylish than everyone while strolling through JFK the other day.
Pics: Splash, AP, Getty
And after you look at the pictures of Kanye’s collection, you’l feel exactly the same.
Soulless fame whore mannequin Kim Kartrashian learned today that sometimes your living and breathing fashion accessory is tired of being your living and breathing fashion accessory and fights back. At the New York Fashion Week show for Kanye West’s collection for Adidas tonight, Kummy Kakes once again dragged North West out for photo-ops and that child was not having it. She did not want to be there. Beyonce, Jay-Z and Anna Wintour were totally over it and I’m surprised Anna didn’t shush that child up by sucking her soul.
Can you even blame North West? The clothes are awful, the music is probably loud and she’s sitting next to the Queen of the Death Eaters who can eat her youth at any moment. North West just wants to be at home with her mommy aka the nanny.
With that being said, North West is my new favorite fashion critic.
And here’s a million pictures of Kummy, Anna (who was not amused by these ugly clothes), North West, RiRi, Beyonce, Jay-Z, Diddy (whose head looks like a clit between two furry coochie lips) and the collection which looks like “homeless ballerina as seen through the eyes of Mugatu.”
Pics: Reuters, Getty, Wenn.com
Anna Wintour gets a hard-on for unseasoned soggy breadsticks floating in a Styrofoam bowl full of lukewarm tap water (see: Blake NotSoLively), so it’s not shocking or a surprise that she’d put Dakota Johnson on the February cover of former fashion magazine turned celebrity month Vogue. I’m all for Vogue putting a Johnson on their cover (surprisingly, I’m not about to make a dick joke), but if they really want to bring fashion and glamour, they’d put EJ Johnson or Don Johnson in a Speedo on the cover.
Fifty Shades of Grey is less than a month away from splattering against thousands of movie screens everywhere and advance ticket sales of that mess are already beating records. Fifty Shades’ PR team has begun trying to convince us that Dakota Johnson is someone we should pay attention to and they somehow managed to get her a Vogue cover. Only the cover has leaked so far, but I’m sure as soon as the other pictures and interview comes out, doctors will use it to cure patients suffering from severe chronic insomnia.
Dakota Johnson is like your cousin’s forgettable friend who works as an office assistant for a medical supplies company and whose name you always forget so you call her Ashley whenever you see her. I get why they cast her ass in Fifty Shades. I mean, nepotism is always alive in Hollywood and that Ana chick is supposed to be fifty shades of bland. But couldn’t they have glamour’d Dakota Johnson up a bit for the cover of Vogue? I’ve seen more glamour and charisma in senior yearbook photo shoots. It kind of looks like the cover of a pamphlet for a new yeast infection medication. If the whole “movie star” thing doesn’t work out for her, she should be a model for pharmaceutical companies.
And since February’s cover of Vogue is giving us the visual definition of “meh,” I’m guessing that on March’s cover trick will either be a wet piece of cardboard or Lauren Conrad. Same thing, really.
Kendall Jenner usually has a dead look in her eyes that tells us that her soul was sucked out of her being, put in an envelope and sent to Lucifer in Hell as part of the pact her family has with him. But at last night’s British Fashion Awards in London, Kendull’s usually dead eyes lit up when she saw the Gymboree Mick Jagger, Harry Styles, at the top of the stairs. While looking like a hobo Beetlejuice, Harry got locked in an intense conversation with Cara DellaReese (Their “intense conversation” went like this: He asked her, “You got any of the bad shit?” To which she said, “I ain’t got the bloat for nothing, bitch!“) as Kendull threw him a parched look that said, “Please pay attention to me, please pay attention to me, please take a picture with me or my Satanic pimp of a mother will punish me for not meeting this month’s fame whore quota!” Harry treated Kendull the same way Kim Kartrashian treats North West when a camera isn’t around. He ignored her. Kendull is me at every party.
You probably can’t even see that picture, because it’s hard to see anything when your eyelashes are on fire. Blame the scorching flames shooting off of the dude in the background’s piping hot eyebrow situation:
That butch George Michael is obviously Cara DeliVeal’s personal brow tamer. But then again that “What have I done to deserve this kind of punishment?” look he’s making tells me that he could also be Kendull’s bodyguard.
Anyway, according to E!, Harry didn’t ignore Kendall the entire night. Even though the children on Twitter want Emma Watson and Harry Styles to be a thing, he flirted with Kendall, so says E!’s source (Hi, PMK!).
Meanwhile, the source adds that Styles caught up with his former flings, and “flirted with Kendall a bunch.” He also got up on the dance floor as well and “was the ladies man all night.”
Oh, PMK, I mean, “source,” stop being bi-phobic. Harry himself has said that he’s not only a ladies man. He’s a ladies man, a gentleman’s man, a whatever man.
And here’s more pictures of Harry Styles looking like a group of strung out guinea pigs got the meth sweats in a bad way before dying on top of his head. I also threw in pictures of others last night including RiRi, Emma Watson, Lana Del Rey, Courtney Love, Posh Beckham and Naomi Campbell. Yes, Lana, Courtney and Cara were at the same event in London last night. If you’re in London and bought coke sometime between late last night and today, you got ripped off. You bought crushed Rolaids. All of the coke in London was snorted up last night.
When the employees of VOGUE moved into their new office at 1 World Trade Center earlier this month, they discovered a surprise. No, it wasn’t that building management had left them an all-blueberry muffin basket; it was that their office was overrun with rats. RATS! Pointy kitties! Multiple sources tell Gawker that the rat problem is so bad, fancy reptilian humanoid Anna Wintour has informed VOGUE staff that they have to prove that her office is rat-free before she steps into it. No word on where she’s currently working, but I’ll assume she was able to find a warm rock to curl up on.
I’m not sure what Anna’s problem is; rats are super smart! Has she never seen Ratatouille? That one rat learned how to speak English AND cook French food. Show some respect, Anna! And it’s not just rats! Remember how Cinderella’s mice friends designed AND sewed her a ballgown? A BALLGOWN! Rats and mice are practically people! Sure, maybe one will bite you and you’ll have to haul ass to the hospital for a rabies shot, but I’m sure the rest are cool.
Or maybe she refuses to enter her office because she’s terrified that one of the rats will look like Miss Bianca, and she knows she could never compete with such a chic bitch.
I know rats are everywhere in New York City, but I can’t help but wonder if somebody put those rats in Anna Wintour’s office on purpose? Let’s see, who would be deeply tasteless enough to get revenge on Anna Wintour by filling her office with creatures known to hang around trash. Quick, somebody check Kim Kardashian’s klothes for traces of rat hair!
Anna Wintour Admits That Putting Kim And Kanye Kardashian On The Kover Of Vogue Was A Stunt Queen Move
When Anna Wintour put the Cheap n’ Tacky Twins on the cover of VOGUE seven months ago, most of us assumed it was because she was getting sick of waking up every morning to 30 new voice mail messages left by Kanye West that start with him begging her to help him turn his porn star-turned-reality star girlfriend into a high klass lady, and end with him crying “IT’S NOT FAIR! I WANT IT!”
But it turns out it actually had nothing to do with Kanye throwing a tantrum or a kall from Kim Kardashian’s agent, Lucifer H. Satan. During an interview with Alina Cho for Fashionista at the MET on Monday night, Anna Wintour admitted that she put the Cheap n’ Tacky Twins on the cover of VOGUE because she knew it would be controversial and get VOGUE some much-needed attention. Then she made buttholes everywhere pucker with delight when she hissed this perfectly wonderful air-kiss to the drowsy hooker queen and her current husband:
“I think if we just remain deeply tasteful and just put deeply tasteful people on the cover, it would be a rather boring magazine! Nobody would talk about us. It’s very important that people do talk about us.”
At first I wanted to kick out a chair and tell that penis head haired-looking trick to take a seat for using those two dumb fame whores to get attention, but then she came in like a cunty cloud and threw that beautiful shade and I melted into a puddle of happiness. I always forget how devastating a good backhanded compliment can be! It’s easy to call Kim Kardashian a tacky trampy plastic-assed narcoleptic-faced hooker, but it takes a bitch working at a whole ‘nother level to describe her as “not deeply tasteful“.
If only Pink, the orphan Kim wanted to adopt from Thailand, had read Anna’s interview before she spoke to The Daily Mail about not wanting to get adopted into that family of fame-humping trash. Instead of saying “It wouldn’t be good for me“, she could have said “I’m not ready to drop out of school and become a full-time fame whore, so it wouldn’t be good for Kim and Pimp Mama Kris.”
Here’s Kim looking like a factory second Real Doll and wearing another rubber skirt while hustling her new toilet water (sorry, eau de toilette) in Australia:
Because Halloween is nothing if not a perfect opportunity to use your daughter as a prop in hopes of scoring brownie points with the fashion world, mother of the decade Kim Kardashian pulled her favorite fashion accessory out of the skunk costume she was originally wearing (skunks are so 5 minutes ago) and threw on a black satin throw pillow cover so that North West could be the André Leon Talley to her Anna Wintour. Kim’s partners in blatant kiss-assery are her makeup artist and her son, who look about as thrilled as North West to be dressed as Grace Coddington and Karl Lagerfeld. Not pictured: Kim’s current husband Kanye West, who was dressed as the most important fashion designer of all time, Kanye West.
Those poor babies – they want nothing to do with this mess! That Karl baby appears to be making a break for it (good for you, Baby Karl!), and you know North would do the same if it weren’t for Kim klutching on to her with that klassic Kardashian iron pimp grip. Even Kim’s friend appears to be going to her happy place. But Kim is living for that Anna Wintour costume, which is crazy because this has got to be the first Halloween in hooker history that she hasn’t worn something that shows off every inch of her silicone-stuffed ass.
Oh wait. It appears I spoke too soon.
Of course Kim couldn’t go a whole Halloween without stuffing 30lbs of ass into 5lbs of spandex. Shortly after Kim got a good picture of herself dressed up as the editor-in-chief of VOGUE for Instagram, she handed North off to the nannies and got her Slutoween on by dressing up as a dead-eyed hooker skeleton. Only Kim could make a skeleton costume look skanky. But her costume does make total sense – Kim is famous for getting boned, after all.