I was going to title this, “Dame Joan Collins And Her Little Fans,” but it’s only Monday and I don’t feel like going to urgent care. Because if I called Naomi Campbell one of Joan Collins’ “little fans,” my cell phone would definitely declare allegiance to her by throwing itself at my head.
Who cares about the Golden Globes itself when the real star power, glamour and impeccable wig game was at The Weinstein Company’s Golden Globes after-party. All of us who prayed for a Dynasty/Knots Landing crossover episode got a tiny glimpse of what could’ve been when Alexis Carrington and Abby Cunningham held court with special guest Naomi Campbell.
Imagine the power that was unlocked then Joan Collins, Donna Mills and Naomi Campbell joined forces. I bet that everyone left that party without a man or a company and had a face covered with champagne. Because as soon as The Glamour Villainess 3 formed, husbands broke up with their wives on the spot, crystal flutes full of champagne magically tossed themselves into faces and people received text messages from their business managers letting them know that three mystery moguls just bought the majority share of their company.
I mean, that Louvre-worthy picture of the three of them screams: We just took your man and your company without even trying, bitch!
Lately, Jared Leto has been looking like the pure definition of a fashion victim, and at The Fashion Awards 2016 in London last night, he turned it all the way up. If Jared and his stylist were going for “Willy Wonka after getting a bootleg Beatles haircut and dye job and moving to The Valley to become a sleazy porn producer,” they nailed it hard. That Gucci’d out ensemble just screams, “I’m going to make you a STAH, baby, now let’s go back to my place to sign the contracts….” Trick looks like the orgy baby that every character in Boogie Nights made together.
Well, I guess if you’re going to look like Liberace as seen through the eyes of Terry Richardson, a fashion awards show is the place to do it. And Jared Leto, who is becoming a Fighting The Hot Grand Champion, must’ve gotten sick of hos throwing their coochies and assholes at him all the time, so he turned himself into a walking boner killer by getting a janky bowl cut that looks like it was done with safety scissors. That’ll do it!
Here’s a million more pictures from The Fashion Awards. Come for David Gandy (“You can say that again.” – your genitals) and stay for Donatella Versace serving up Solid Gold Muppet sexiness.
Seen above making the face that she and every working housekeeper makes whenever they think of Naomi Campbell, Tyra Banks has brought out the dead, dusty horse that is her feud with Naomi and continued to beat it like Naomi beating a maid with a BlackBerry. Tyra and the father of her kid, Erik Asla, were guests on the Norwegian-Swedish talk show Skavlan last week and their conversation turned to how she was terrorized by Naomi back in the day.
I know it’s redundant of me to even ask, because we all know that Sue Ellen Mischke from Seinfeld has, is, and forever will always work the bra-under-a-blazer look the best. But Amber Rose is coming in a very close second. We all know that Amber Rose has a habit of bringing ten tons of jaw-dropping eleganza to the MTV VMAs. Sometimes she goes straight-up stripper, other times she keeps it a little more demure. This year she went tasteful and sophisticated with just a hint of “Oh, these?”
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.
Last week, it seemed like there was trouble in the squad (Side note: Hello, my name is Michael. I’m a grown up and I just wrote “trouble in the squad.“) when Lorde was seen with Taylor Swift enemy Diplo. Diplo once said that someone should start a Kickstarter to buy Taylor Swift an ass. I figured that Girl Squad Captain Taylor would immediately tell Lorde to shred her Hello Kitty membership card and then ask for the copy of the key to the treasure box where they keep the friendship bracelet supplies. But I don’t think that happened, because here’s Taylor Swift (giving you Dollar Tree Elvira Hancock) and Lorde (giving you constipated and stoned Emily the Strange in an Ice Capades show directed by Tim Burton) at Vanity Fair’s Oscar party last night.
But maybe something is up. Lorde does look like she was sedated and is only posing with Taylor because Taylor threatened to expose secrets that could ruin her career. You know, secrets like she really hates the color black, she loves the color pink, Nicholas Sparks is her favorite author, she really feels whole when she smiles and nothing brightens up her day like sunshine. But then again, Lorde always looks like a goth ghost who took too much Ambien, so everything’s probably fine. However, nothing is fine with the blood explosion messiness that Gwen Stefani wore.
While Blake Shelton looked like the most dressed up dude at a hillbilly wedding, Gwen Stefani looked like she was about to star in Carrie On Ice!
It looks like her belly button is barfing blood. She looks like a slutty blood clot. We get it, Gwen. You’re hot. You still got it, bitch. I’m all for a trick trying to get attention by showing her granny panties in a sheer dress, but Gwen could’ve done it without wearing an ensemble that makes me want to throw tampons, Band-Aids and cotton balls at her.
And here’s more pictures from last night’s VF party including some of Justin Timberlake being annoying and Anne Hathaway wearing Mrs. Roper’s favorite disco freakum muumuu.