Results tagged “tutus” from GoFugYourself

Okay, Diane. I see where you were going here.

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[Photo: Splash News]

It's a little black dress, very girly, paired with some cute shoes and your favorite accessory: your legs. (Well, second-favorite; we're pretty sure Pacey is her first choice of adornment with any outfit, and that's as it should be. If Intern George ever quits -- PERISH THE THOUGHT -- Pacey just might have a place here with us.)

Ahem. Where was I? Ah, yes, D.Krugs: I just don't know. The twee tutu-ruffle around her hips looked, at first, like her pockets are inside-out, as if she'd been frisked on her way in and not put back together properly. This led my mind on a long and winding path to the movie Clue, whereupon I decided Diane's look here is one part Yvette, one part Mrs. White (please God, not the part where she offs her gentlemen friends), and one part that moment where Wadsworth says, "The gun is missing. Gentlemen, turn out your pockets. Ladies, empty your purses. Whoever's got the gun... IS THE MURDERER."

All that stuff, of course, is awesome. But as a fashion statement? On a day that's NOT  Halloween, nor a local showing of Clue in which a group of players re-enacts it in front of the screen while the audience interacts Rocky Horror-style and shows up in costume (yes, such a thing DOES exist and I've been, and it rules, and I really regret not arriving in a Mrs. White wig)? I'm not sure.

I would keep all the accessories and start over on the dress -- specifically, lopping off the tutu, and adjusting the sweetheart neckline, which doesn't quite look as though it properly fits. Then, maybe some lipstick that's less of a cousin to that whole baby-pink trend. And I'd for sure adjust her hair, because as it is, the greased-back-but-flowy thing just makes her look like she's trying to approximate a mullet. No no, Diane. One cannot go half-hearted with a mullet. You go big or go home.

What would YOU change, if anything? Discuss it in the comments. The usual rules apply: no in-fighting, no back-biting, no arm-wrestling, no using anyone's face as dust rag, etc. 
July 23, 2009

Saphfugger

So, it appears Katie "Jordan" Price has a new book out!

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It's called Sapphire -- as perhaps we should have guessed from her thematically appropriate ensemble - and it's about string theory with a special emphasis on black hole entropy. Oh, wait. I'm wrong. It's actually about a party planner named Sapphire who learns to love again. OR DOES SHE? (I haven't read the book, but I bet that she does.)

I must salute Katie for her...commitment to sparkle motion, shall we say? This girl is wholly willing to dress like a deranged extra from an Adult production of Swan Lake -- let's call it Swan Naked, perhaps, or Swoon Lake, if we're going to be classy about it -- if that's what it takes to move the merchandise. Whatever that merchandise may be. Ahem.

July 20, 2009

Fuggie Price

Thank god Katie "Jordan" Price is handling her recent divorce with all the gentle sensitivity and low-key good taste we've all come to expect from her, much like Jon Gosselin:

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[Photos: Splash News]

Poor tortured soul. Clearly she can barely manage to pull herself out of bed to be wrestled into her feather-trimmed bustier and tutu, so heart-broken is she. Shall we see how these, her virtual widows weeds, look from the rear? [Only marginally safe for work,  I hate to break it to you.]
Picture Carrie Bradshaw. Now picture her having fallen on hard times, reduced to starting a burlesque show in her apartment to make ends meet while Big weeps over his crippled stock portfolio. Then add absinthe and stir. Voila! You have Madonna:

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I would love to have seen Guy Ritchie's face today when he picked up his morning paper and saw the spread on the Met Ball, likely led off with a large color photo of his ex-wife wearing that. He'd either be horrified, deeply gratified that he may have been what cleaved Madge to her last remaining strands of sanity, or laughing too hard to have any opinion other than wondering where you can possibly go in choosing a burlesque pseudonym once your ACTUAL name is already Madonna. First Sunday School teacher plus name of your local supermarket? Grandmother's name plus anagram of your second husband's surname?

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Oh, come on, Madonna, don't walk away now. We were just staring to have some fun. I hadn't even gotten to the part where I'm almost HOPING the taffeta Louis Vuitton tutu is actually bloomers, for fear that you will flash the, er, crack in your armor at every last party guest. Oh well. Another time.


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SJP: And what are YOU giggling at, Matthew?

MATTHEW BRODERICK: I'm just... hee... suddenly craving gumballs.

SJP: Very funny.

MATTHEW: Do you think your sister Glinda the Good Witch could conjure a few for me?

SJP: Ha ha...

MATTHEW: Or some Milk Duds?

SJP: Right, or how about some Junior Mints, I'm telling everyone my dress is a gentle "barely mint" color? I get it. You are SO hilarious.

MATTHEW: Look, I told you not to wear a giant boob shelf that had sprouted a tutu. You are not in a ballet called Silicone Valleys.

SJP: THESE ARE VERY REAL.

MATTHEW: Yeah, and you managed to make them look fake. That's quite an achievement.

SJP: Can it, Ferris.

MATTHEW: That reminds me -- just WAIT until you hear my stash of "cans" jokes.

SJP: Sigh.

We touched on Marcia briefly in yesterday's NY Mag piece, but it bears repeating: This dress evokes nothing so much as memories of my sixth-grade Science Fair project.

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It was called "Spoil Spores," because even at that age I was a sucker for a terrible pun, and it was all about mold. I grew it in different conditions and on different substances: bread, cheese, orange juice, and pieces of wet cloth, and let me tell you, the penicillin mold that bloomed in my glasses of Tropicana were utterly magnificent. Had they not smelled musty and strange and been gaggingly furry, I probably could've swallowed all of them and become invincible. So whenever I see Marcia up here, it conjures images of going into the laundry room every morning to check the fridge and the windowsill and the shelves to see how far my mold had crept along overnight. And I'm not sure embodying the fruits of a third-place science experiment is exactly what Marcia had in mind.

However, she has inspired me to take "Spoil Spores" to the next level: a ballet. In that twee, stumpifying tutu, Marcia could play the lead -- a rogue mold that falls in love with the food she's supposed to ruin, culminating in a heartbreakingly luscious pas-de-deux that ends in death. Bring Kleenex, people. It's going to change the way you look at those pita pockets that have been sitting on the counter for two weeks.
The majority of you forgave Rihanna for dressing like a lemon cake. But can you forgive her for this contraption?

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Before we all write this off as Rihanna being deeply original and offbeat, I should point you to our girl Kelly Clarkson, who did the "Like A Dead Virgin" thing a few years ago with -- I think -- equally stupid results. Of course, Kelly stopped short of strapping her tutu to a weight belt, and did not take care to add... what is that, a dickey? With tiny sleeves? A RUBBER dickey? It's bad enough that I look at a transparent tutu pyramid and shrug, "Eh, been there, seen that," but a DICKEY? Is THIS really where we are now, America?

Also, I know it's just a reflection off her metallic collar -- and we all know how awkward it can be when our metallic collars catch the light weirdly; it's my private pain -- but whenever I look at her neck, I see half of a gleaming silver mask staring back at me. Do you think her maybe-probably-boyfriend Chris Brown was gazing up at her and silently singing, "Rubber Dickey, you're the one; you make Sexy Time lots of fun! Rubber Dickey I'm awfully fond of you"? Or was he too busy thinking, "The PHAAAAAAANTOM of the Opera is HEEEEEEERE, INSIDE MY MIND"?

May 19, 2008

Fugoes

I am mildly concerned that Dania Ramirez appears to be wearing a dress cobbled together from wrapping paper I saw at Target and a hot pink tutu.

And I am really rather perplexed by the fact that her right boob apparently needs to be thrust up so much farther than her left. Did it win something?

But above all, I can't help being VERY worried that her presence at Upfronts parties this spring means we are stuck seeing more of her annoying character on Heroes. And I can't handle that. I would take an entire season more of Ali Larter and/or Lovestruck Hiro Mooning Around Feudal Japan (Not To Be Confused With 'Mooning Feudal Japan,' Which Would Be More Of An HBO Show) if it meant not having to watch Wonder Twin #1 act like a complete idiot and then gasp awkwardly while the special-effects guys turn her eyes black. Granted, none of that is necessarily Dania's direct fault, but she is the one who dredged up all those feelings by attending Happy Fun Fall Schedule parties in a dress that I'm pretty sure is something Paris Hilton would've worn to a birthday party -- or, indeed, even as pajamas -- when she was ten. And possibly twenty.

April 7, 2008

WWFug

This "Maria" is allegedly a wrestler for the WWE, so I think I'm meant to be grateful that she's wearing a tutu over her spandex onesie rather than, say, plastic hot pants.

Instead, I just want to ask if she's come across any plutonium lately, and if so, whether I could borrow her skirt, ball it up, and feed it into the gas tank of my DeLorean. 

So nice of Kristen Bell to dress up for this occasion:


[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

From the waist up, it's Flashdance; from the waist down, Dancing With The Stars. At the afterparty, I hope she felt up John O'Hurley's crotch with her foot during a steamy paso doble.

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