Results tagged “boho” from GoFugYourself

Jessica already shone our judgmental spotlight on Whitney Port's head-wreath and crazy jacket, but I stumbled upon a glimpse of her full outfit and couldn't resist enabling us all to gawk at it. See, Whitney -- for the uninitiated, who (if they exist) have a wonderful, wonderful existence and should cherish it -- is a girl who, generally, seems to have an aversion to anything that is not either skintight pants, or skirts that put at least three-quarters of her skinny, mile-long legs on display. And that's fine; she should flaunt it while she's got it. But they even went so far as to stage a shot on The City of her wearing a crotch-skimming mini to her first day at work, walking past some construction workers who -- instead of hooting -- patted each other supportively on the shoulder as if to say, "Someday, Billy. If you dream big, someday you, too, can have 44-inch legs with the approximate thigh circumference of a bowling pin." In short, if Whitney isn't the mayor of Leg City, then she's at least the head of the town's zoning commission.

Which is why this is so hilarious. I'd have sooner expected Whitney to cut this thing off where the light purple becomes dark and wear THAT as a dress on its own:



Instead, she's about ten seconds away from making a maypole out of a nearby street lamp and performing "Age of Aquarius" on her trusty blade of grass. I'll slip her an extra Benjamin if she can get Spencer on the pan flute.

Apparently, Laura Dern reads Go Fug Yourself and became mildly concerned that -- although it's unlikely -- the Kelly Lynch/Kelly Preston confusion might start to seep over in her blonde direction. And so she too is engaging in keep-away fashion:

It just goes to show you that the adage is true: People really will do (or wear) anything to avoid talking to Scientologists.

[That sound you hear is Mr. and Mrs. Holmes hissing at their fresh paper cuts, which came from them buying four of these and frantically cramming them into an envelope to send to Kat(i)e. I hate to say, though, guys, that it probably won't be good enough Scieno-repellant for your daughter; she's in deeper than even a melange of clashing boho hoo-ha can save.]

A peek inside Paris Hilton's Day Planner:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb]

4:3opm: wake up

5:oopm: go back to sleep in tanning bed

6:15pm: make help wash hair

6:30pm: consider texting Man Paris. Crank call Nicole instead.

6:40pm: threeway with man who drives me places and lady who paints my toes.

6:47pm: put on velvet dirndl-y sack-dress thingie.  Shapeless throwbacks to already-unflattering retro styles are hott.

7:00pm: but it's missing something. Something...macrame. Like a vest!

7:20pm:  party!

Hello! I'm Jennifer Love Hewitt!

I just wanted to mention that it is PURELY COINCIDENTAL that I am snapped, fully made-up, reading with great and very apparent enjoyment each and every tabloid at least once a week.  It is also just pure chance that, whenever this not-at-all-staged photo is snapped, every week, I am gleefully holding up the magazine so that its title may be read clearly by anyone who happens to run across these pictures, especially if that person works for the magazine I am holding, and/or writes a feature called something like, say, oh, just off the top of my head, "Stars: They're Just Like Us," or something like that.  This is NOT AT ALL a set-up so that I can find myself back in the press, and I am, in fact, very offended that you would even think that. I would, however, like to inform everyone -- you know, just while I'm here - that I am already in wardrobe for that remake of I Dream of Jeannie that they're talking about, so if you want, I can totally do that for you and you wouldn't even have to pay a costume person, but if that doesn't work out, I'd also like to remind everyone that my boobs are very big and you can see them every Friday on CBS this fall in The Ghost Whisperer, in which I star. Yes, I am still alive, people are still hiring me, and if you feature me in your magazine -- based on these totally candid photos! -- I will probably make it worth your while! Thank you!

Hi y'all!

It's been so long, y'all! But I've been so busy, you know, with, like, growing the baby, and making that TV show thingie that Kevin and I did about how I talked him into marrying me even though my parents really hated him and that was fun. I have to point out, first of all, y'all, that I look awfully happy, don't I? Isn't my skin nice? Wouldn't you saying I'm glowing or something?

And look at my belly -- I mean, my bump! Look at my bump! I have a bump and my bump has a BABY in it! A real little person with little nails and little toes and other little body part things. I want everyone to see my bump because my bump proves that Kevin loves me and not just my money even though he also thinks that my money is pretty fucking sweet, which is what he said to me this morning while he was rummaging through my purse looking for my checkbook. He's so cute. Did you see how he told me he loved me on the finale of our TV show thingie? I cried and cried, y'all. Do you think Cameron Diaz ever leaves special little notes to her boyfriend WHOSE NAME I HAVE FORGOTTEN at the end of her stupid show about traveling the world or whatever? Because I bet she doesn't and even if she does, I bet she has to write them herself while Kevin actually got my mom to write what he said to me. Isn't that romantic? They both really love me. My mom even told me that she's praying to God every night that this baby gets my looks which I think is really sweet since that must mean she thinks I'm pretty. She also told Jamie Lynn that she's trying to get Kevin deported, which totally surprised me because I never even told her how much Kevin likes boats. Although when I told Jamie Lynn that she just looked at me funny, but I don't really think Jamie Lynn knows anything that's going on anyway.

AND I just bought these great cowboy boots because nothing is more comfortable when you've got swollen ankles than cowboy boots. So basically things are totally great right now! And if someone maybe bought a billboard outside the bedroom window of a boy I'll call "Mustin Fimberlake" that saws "I WIN,"  then that someone wouldn't be totally wrong about the winning, don't you think? And I also think that if I were him I would probably want to call me to find out if I was the person who bought the billboard, though, and then maybe I would ask me if I wanted to go to lunch and then maybe I would adopt my baby and take me to Capri for the summer but YOU DIDN'T HEAR THAT FROM ME and shit, Kevin's home. Gotta go. Bye!

Blu, Blu, Blu.

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

Let's start at -- or near -- the top:

1) Brush your hair.

2) No, better: cut it, or take the ratty extensions out. Whatever you have to do. Beause I'm not sure a brush will get through that briar patch.

3) Your wrap looks like you hacked up a bathrobe.

4) Your skirt is a Crate & Barrel pattern for, like, lawn furniture, or patio umbrellas. Which might have been fine, if not for the bodysuit. And that brings me to...

5) ... The hat (THE HAT) and that dastardly crocheted top, both of which we've seen before. Why are you continuing to build outfits around these, Blu? And if you think that top is so flattering, couldn't you at least pair it with something that flatters it? Not that anything really flatters a piece of loosely formed cotton webbing, but you get the drift. Didn't you JUST teach us all how we can get revenge on our nasty-ass men by stealing their credit cards, taking our friends out, and blowing his financial wad all over Barney's and Fred Segal and Pottery Barn? Is this really the best you could do on that spending spree? You clearly don't have very good friends, if they let you come down from your revenge bender with nothing but a knit bodysuit and jockey's cap to show for it. That is a lame-ass piece of vengeance right there.

6) Your shoes are cute. But it's too late for that now, Blu. The hat -- THE HAT! -- and the bodysuit have kind of ruined your credibility.

If it were Hallowe'en, I would wonder if Sienna Miller is dressed as the Bride of Aladdin, but as it is I just have to assume she's off her rocker again:

Her front-close shirt appears to be working its way open as best it can; I wish it the best of luck in freeing itself from those trousers. For they are not bell-bottoms: They appear to be elasticized around her ankle, creating that unfortunate billowing effect that one only ought wear if one hopes to be rubbed heartily, and immediately prior to some slobbering oaf making three slurry wishes that chiefly involve both invasive procedures and some Nachos Bell Grande.

The pervasiveness of boho-reek has me in a delicate enough state; if genie-wear is on its way in, I might plunge into a dark downward spiral the likes of which will make Kate Holmes-Cruise's recent antics look like nothing more than a gentle gust of wind on the outskirts of Crazytown.

I think her sash unfolds into a magic carpet. She really shouldn't operate that thing if she's tipsy; hopefully someone can fly it home for her.

What the hell is Beyonce wearing?

I'll grant that Beyonce is so far the only person for whom boho-chic has been a blessing, because it has purged her stylist-mother's mind of hot pants, but... seriously, what is wrong with Tina Knowles? Did someone buy her a subscription to National Geographic? The other two look relatively normal, and then Miss B up on the right is clad in a pattern and color scheme that is probably in the running for a redesign of the seat covers on Southwest Airlines jets. Not to mention the incredibly helpful belt that is hanging limply around her waist, useless as a meatball sub on Nicole Richie's kitchen counter.

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

Sharon Case is a very pretty girl. She was excellent that day on that soap, where that guy did that thing, and she cried. Her hair looks nice. But... I just wish she wasn't schlumping around town in the very latest so-called "boho chic" b.s.; I am so tired of flowing skirts and tops that look like sundresses I wore when I was four. But even so, if she just hadn't worn these two things together, the whole effect wouldn't have been terrible; as it is, though, the outfit not only makes her look slouchy and saggy, but it gives her waist the appearance of being located down around where her knees should be. It's like her midsection is sinking.

I'm ready now, Old Navy. You can stop now, Forever 21. And all you designers who are getting away with charging eight times as much for almost identical thin cotton crap, I'm done with you, too. I am. Stop trying to tell me to bust a tunic, or that these skirts are super chic. I am very weary of walking into stores and seeing mannequins dressed as Ms. Case is, in the hope of luring me into thinking that peasant skirts and flowy tops will make me look trendy and not dumpy. I am very, very sick of going shopping and being confronted at every turn by rumpled boho skirts, paisley or tie-dyed shirts, and things that blouse where no item has bloused before. I'm quite serious about this -- I'm not sure why we needed to revisit this era of fashion history, but can't we move along? Haven't you tortured us long enough?

This is London's adored fashion icon -- a woman who dresses like a beer wench at a French rodeo? Mais non.