Andre Leon Talley
This is what it would look like if Madame Maxime and Hagrid got really drunk and high one night and accidentally drank a potion, which turned her into a soulless, regular-sized Death Eater and him into a gay, beardless giant. What's even more terrifying are those twin pillars of vomit on Andre Leon Talley's hooves. ALT probably thought that he was fancying up those dark-sided Lucifer boots by monogramming his initials onto them. Nice try, Gay Hagrid, but a monogrammed pile of nut-embedded hyena shit is still a pile of nut-embedded hyena shit.
Actually, monogramming them is worse, because it's telling the world that you're claiming those horrifying boots made from the intestines of Satan's slaves. If they weren't monogrammed, ALT could say that the Illuminati kidnapped his entire family and made him spread the evil by wearing those UGGs. I might believe that story. But the fact that his initials are on them tells me that he's actually proud to wear the Ninth Circle's boot of choice. I barely even noticed ALT's purple silk pajama pants and the oversized Christmas tree skirt on his body, which shows you the evil power of UGGs. And Anna Wintour is smirking, which means she's totally in on it. Evil whores, the both of them.
You better cleanse your screen with holy water wipes as soon as you click away from this mess.
And here's others at The Great Gatsby premiere in NYC last night. They're all unholy bitches for not throwing holy water at ALT's UGGs when they had the chance. In order: Leonardo DiCatchAHo, Carey Mulligan, Isla Fisher, Florence Welch, Tobey Maguire with his wife (the hell kind of toddler church outfit is she wearing?), Baz Luhrmann with Catherine Martin, Jay-Z, Anjelica Huston, Martha Stewart (wearing her favorite sequined capri leggings) and Joel Edgerton.
Andre Leon Talley is the most influential person in the fashion world (as Tyra Banks tells us every single week on America's Next Top Model) and he really didn't disappoint at last night's MET Costume Gala last night when he floated onto the red carpet like the ethereal gay dream version of some University's mascot. You can tell that when his farts billow through that gown, they smell like blueberries dipped in melted grape chapstick. When ALT is done with that old gown, he can donate it to the entire graduating class (EVERY SCHOOL) of 2011! There's room in there for all of them.
The Vixen of Vogue wasn't the only trick who served scalding hot fuckery on a plate of fuckery last night. There were others who made it their night's goal to summon a wave of WTF faces from the photographers. They would not let ALT be the only one. No, they would not!
Wednesday Addams snatched this shit from the rack marked "Morticia's freakum dresses" in The Addams Family costume closet many years ago and she's been waiting for the day to wear it.
Kate Hudson's dress is pretty normal, but that crap on her head looks like a rhinestone sea urchin that crawled out of Andre Leon's Talley's glitter hole and found a new home on her hair.
Ashley Olsen brings us the news that Brenda Walsh's prom dress moved to Switzerland and got a morning job as a milk maid.
Christina Hendricks... Christina Hendricks... Christina Hendricks... I'm just going to focus on the beautiful pair of sunrise chichis and then move right along before I get rust poisoning.
A slew of ICANTS go to Fuggie Fug, Freida Pinto, Kristen Stewart, Marc Jacobs, Robert Duffy and Serena Williams (who thinks she's at a HoJo's Royal Wedding party).
Lastly, I can't say one mean thing about Basement Baby's look. Beyonce accidentally left a bag of Cost Plus impulse buys in front of the basement door and Solange made a DRESS out of them. Not a dress, but a DRESS! No comment on the make-up which makes her look like a constipated lady bug.
Kunty Karl showed his new line of wispy cobweb gowns for Chanel in a cave under a volcano in Mordor today, and the best part of the show was when he slithered off of his throne of bones and braved the flashes from cameras to pose with admirers like Lily Allen, Florence Welch, Clemence Poesy, and Emma Roberts. They crawled through the tundra for miles to get a picture with the exquisite demon whose mop of bone dust threads holds the broken dreams of 12-year-old models in its tips. It's sort of like that time Perseus traveled from afar to slay Medusa. But instead of chopping Kunty Karl's head off (which is totally impossible for a mortal to do, by the way), they just want to pose with him like he's the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus or the old timey hos at Knott's Berry Farm.
Seriously, some say that designing $1,200 t-shirts out of caterpillar skins is Kunty Karl's specialty, but I say it's posing with random people. Ghoulfriend is good at that shit! Karl really needs his own mall tour. I'd wait in line with the other screaming brats and babies to get a picture on Kunty Karl's lap. I wouldn't even mind if Karl stuck his nose in my ear to see if my brain is the type of consistency he likes to nibble on.
Picture this in slow motion with Delibes' Flower Duet serving as this scene's soundtrack. It's the only way. Page Six says that Vogue's own dreckitude assassin Andre Leon Talley was preciously perched at the end of a bench in the front row of Costello Tagliapietra's fashion show on Friday afternoon. ALT sat there silently judging all of those around him behind his sunglasses.
And then like a scene out of the sequel to Scarlet Takes A Tumble, everybody but Andre got off the bench at once. The witness says that ALT was at the wrong end of a see saw fail and he hit the ground. A few seconds after ALT hit the ground, a circle of quakes formed around him and quickly spread to the rest of the room knocking every bitch off their feet. If ALT goes down, we all go down! Okay, that last part didn't happen, but I'd like to think it did.
The witness went on to say, "He fell onto his side, and security immediately pulled him to his feet."
You better believe that somebody got fired for this. When ALT is through with them, they'll be lucky to get a job folding poly-blend toddler sweaters in the stock room of a Gap Kids outlet. Actually, that sounds like a better gig than being ALT's assistant.
And since we're on the subject of international fashion icons of this generation, here's a few pictures of Grace Jones at the US Open yesterday.
Down in Anna Wintour's dungeon this morning, her and Andre Leon Talley are wrapping up a Tim Gunn voodoo doll in poly-blend rayon (to Anna that's the equivalent of burning him alive) while interns dance around them while holding burning JcPenney catalogs, because Tim is spitting up all their secrets in his new book.
Page Six reports that in Tim's newest book "Gunn's Golden Rules", he writes all about Anna Wintour and Andre Leon Talley's ridiculous ways. First up is his encounter with Anna Wintour at a fashion show back in 2006:
"I was with a colleague from Parsons, and we had been discussing the will-she-or-won't-she-take-the-elevator question, so we ran over to the elevator bay to see if Anna would deign to get on. She wasn't there. Then we looked over the stairway railing. And what did we see but Anna being carried down the stairs. The bodyguards had made a fireman's lock and were racing her from landing to landing. She was sitting on their crossed arms.
I ran to the window to see if they would put her down on the sidewalk or carry her to the car like that. They carried her to the car. And I thought: I will never for get this."
The top of Tim's head looks like Anderson Cooper's silvery field of nutsack hair, so he would never tell a lie, but something about this story doesn't make sense to me. There's no way Anna Wintour would let a pair of peon hands touch her. Even if the pair of hands were wearing gloves made out of leathery skin from Donatella Versace's inner thighs.
Anna was probably being carried on a throne made of the bones of her past interns while 12-year-old models threw silk Hermes scarves around her. Either that or Andre Leon Talley just stuffed her between his ass cheeks before he walked down the stairs since she weighs about as much as one of Tori Spelling's kidney stones.
And speaking of ALT, here's Tim's little queef on the Priestess of the Pucker:
"When we return to the green room, we see that someone has spread a translucent barber's bib over Andre and he's reclining, his arms at his sides. He's being fed grapes and cubes of cheese one by one, like a bird in a nest."
And the problem with this is....? ALT's wrists are much too fragile and precious to handle chocolate covered Double Downs and bacon-wrapped balls of fried mink (you know it wasn't grapes and cubes of cheese).
That being said, Tim Gunn needs to give us more of this. I would rather him whisper it into my ear as I run my fingers through his platinum follicles, but reading it in a book works for me too.