Her name is Chloe Sevigny. And it’s recently come to her attentshun that some behavior on Instagram is “disgusting.” (Those videos have run on a little too long but still – classic.)
Boho chic NYC actress vintage shopper realness queen, Chloe, told Net-A-Porter that she only uses her 570,000-follower Instagram account in certain ways, and you also won’t see her promoting herself that much. She’d really much rather be taking pictures with a dirty, barely functioning Polaroid camera she found at a curio shop in Harlem for $300, then send the pics snail mail to a former lover who’s holed up in a tiny flat in Gstaad, writing poetry about the revolution. Or something. FYI Chloe, just because it’s easier, doesn’t mean it’s not as good.
Louis Vuitton threw a party at the Louvre in Paris last night to celebrate their collaboration with Jeff Koons. Jeff Koons designed a line of tacky and hideous bags for them and you can see some of them here, but really, it just looks like the Louvre wiped its asshole with Louis Vuitton purses. The knock-offs are probably going to look better.
Louis Vuitton’s regulars, like Michelle Williams, Jennifer Connelly and Miranda Kerr, came out and so did Justin Theroux and Jennifer Aniston. After the party, Justin and Jennifer must have been planning to take a time machine back to the 90s to troll clubs for a third. Because they are giving me “90s swingers on a mission” hotness. They look like rejected Bret Easton Ellis characters.
Pulling off leather pants isn’t easy (and I mean that in more ways than one) and Justin isn’t doing it, but I’m still loving this look. Justin looks like that douche at the club whose got a thick cloud of Acqua di Gio following him and who tells the chicks that he’s an exotic car dealer when he’s really a salesman-in-training at a Hyundai dealership. The Roxbury Guys would look at him like, “What an asshole.”
Justin’s bulge isn’t as BOOM as it has been in the past, but it does sort of look like two small guinea pigs spooning in a trash bag.
I bet the line that Justin heard the most all night was, “I can’t wait to see you in paste pants later.”
And here’s more pictures from last night including Jennifer Connelly who covered herself with four layers of nope.
I’m starting to think the unofficial theme of May is “A Conversation About Creepy Directors.” Yesterday it was Adrien Brody verbally shrugging his shoulders at the alleged grossness of Woody Allen, Bill Cosby and Roman Polanski. The day before that it was Susan Sarandon spilling the hot truth about how she feels regarding Woody Allen. Before that, Ronan Farrow called out Blake Lively and Kristen Stewart as they awkwardly cleared their throats and prayed that someone would change the subject. And now Chloe Sevigny is talking about her personal experience with creepy directors in general.
Looks like we can add another ensemble to Tim Gunn’s “Don’t Wear This” list of vulgar fashion atrocities.
The fifth annual LACMA Art+Film gala was held last night, and Kim Kardashian was there, which makes total sense, because Kim got her start in film. No, it’s because she’s a high klass lady who goes to high klass film galas. Also because Kris Jenner would go absolutely apeshit if she found out her top money maker passed up an opportunity to get dressed up in her “LOOK AT ME” finest and serve up some half-asleep FACE for the cameras.
We all know that Kim Kardashian has a severe allergy to good taste, so it’s really no surprise that she would show up to the LACMA gala in a cheap-looking Leg Avenue body stocking with her tits out. I mean, she had to do something to get some attention; she went a whole 24 hours without all eyes on her, thanks to her mother selfishly stealing the spotlight with her million-dollar
Great Mediocre Gatsby birthday party yesterday. So really, it’s more of a shock that she didn’t double-down and try to make up for lost attention by showing up totally nude while her intern (Kylie Jenner) followed closely behind, spritzing her plastic parts with Crisco.
Here’s more of Kim looking like a Living Dead Doll of a knocked-up zombie stripper at the LACMA Art+Film gala last night, as well all the other famous types who were there, like Reese Witherspoon, Goopy Paltrow, and Jared Leto, who is still working the malnourished methhead Joker look, I see.
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).
It’s gotten to the point where when I look at a picture of Chloe Sevigny, I don’t know if I’m looking at a picture of the actual Chloe Sevigny or a picture of Drew Droege as Chloe Sevigny. Or a little of both. Every Chloe Sevigny picture is a riddle with no answer.
All of us trashy whores better close our always opened legs, sit up real proper-like and if we have to fart, we better fart into a freshly cleaned white handkerchief, because we are in the presence of a genteel lady who is the sheer definition of class. Umlaut Chloe talked to V Magazine about stuff while promoting her new coffee table book for Rizzoli which was inspired by a Japanese paparazzi book featuring pictures of her. I’ll wait right here since I’m sure you have to evacuate your building after the carbon monoxide detector went off from being hit with the hot pretentiousness wafting off of that last sentence.
While talking about how nowadays personality is more important than acting skills, Chloe said that she doesn’t think she that thing that makes you a big movie star. Chloe thinks St. Angie Jolie has it, but thinks the frat boy trapped in a woman’s body that is Jennifer Lawrence is just trashy and annoying.