January 2005 Archives

Okay, who let Lil' Kim design a prom dress?

This is, apparently, an actual dress, made by a Texas company that has advertised it successfully in teen magazines like YM and Seventeen. And the model is not, apparently, wearing it backwards.

Now, I would maybe expect to see something like this on The O.C., just because if any show is likely to have a complete break with fashion reality, that is the one. But ... really? This guy has actually sold some of these. If I had come down the stairs in that thing, my father would have locked me inside the house, burned all my clothes, and replaced them with billowing muumuus -- if he was able to retain hold of his consciousness.

What is wrong with people? It's a school dance. Do you really want your geometry teacher to know the exact diameter of your breasts? Are you really that interested in rendering your English teacher speechless, or perhaps reducing him/her to speaking in tongues? Are you this hell-bent on becoming a stripper?

Sweet God. To quote my esteemed colleague Jessica, "I need to lie down."

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

"Hi... yeeeeeeah, look, I know, okay? I know my new movie The Wedding Date looks like the bastard cousin of My Best Friend's Wedding, what with the shenanigans and the Dermot Mulroney and the redheaded star. And I know Julia Roberts would never be caught dead in this dress, okay? I know. I know it makes me look like a governess, or maybe a governess who got invited to the prom. But, see, all I hear about myself lately is that I'm a bitch, right? And what makes a woman more likable than a good pregnancy rumor? So shut up about me being a cow whom the other three on the show don't talk to, and start writing about how huge this dress makes me look. Babies are PR gold, bitches, so I'm going to grit my teeth, plaster this tight smile on my face, and rumor my way back into everyone's good graces. I'll even write the headline: "MESSING DRESSING TO HIDE BUMP?" Good, yes? In sum: I'M NICE AND I'M SOOOO HAPPY, AND WHAT IS MY DRESS HIDING?

"And if rumors don't work, I'll just make like I'm on Passions, kidnap my pregnant archnemesis, throw her in a well, and torment her with visions of clowns until she gives birth and I can pass off her baby as my own. All the baby benefits, but none of the stretch marks! Whee!"

After countless log-in problems and error messages at our old location, we've moved Go Fug Yourself to a new hosting service (thank you to the lovely Monique for all her help in this regard), and we're excited about the switch -- chiefly because we can now file away old entries by topic, giving you an easy way to read all the Letters of Fug in one sitting, for example, or enabling you to scroll through the many looks of Courtney Peldon with greater ease.

About half of our archives are now up and available for your perusal; the rest will, bit by bit, reappear, but we think we're off to a pretty good start.

Please update your links to: http://www.gofugyourself.com, if you hadn't already. Thank you!

Fug on...

Proving once and for all that a predisposition toward capes is genetic:

In a desperate attempt to outrun the paparazzi, Jennifer Lopez cut through neighbor Rue McClanahan's back yard, becoming inextricably entangled in the older woman's guest room curtains, which had been hung on her clothesline to dry:

Late for a premiere, Ms Lopez allegedly said, "Eh, screw it," and just cinched it.

We knew it would be only a matter of time before Paris Hilton fugged herself up again:

[Photo: FlynetOnline.com]

Love the shoes, but what is the appeal of the split knickers? It looks like she had an accident with some barbed wire. Maybe her vagina gets upset if it doesn't have some ventilation, or at least a nearby window.

Although I much prefer the image of Paris, having locked herself out of her home, hurling her body over a barbed-wire fence and getting her knickers caught, dangling there for twenty minutes screaming at her bodyguard to stop laughing and help her, dammit, instead of running off to 7-11 to buy a disposable camera.

Oh, Kelly.

This is such a cry for help. Come here, baby. Come here. No, no, don't cry. I'm here for you. Talk to me, sweetie. What's wrong? Why are you acting like this? Why are you wearing a bowler hat that makes your head look like a pale little pumpkin in a bad wig? Why would you do that? No, no! Don't talk that way. Lots of people love you. Like who? Well, like your parents. Of course they do, Kelly! Kelly...Kelly...I can't talk to you when you're like this. Do you want help, or not? KELLY? Fine, that's just fine. If you want to act like a child, that's fine. If you want to run around dressed like a cut-rate Ally Sheedy impersonator -- OF COURSE THERE ARE ALLY SHEEDY IMPERSONATORS. They have impersonators for everything. Shut up, that's not the point. As I was SAYING, if you really wake up in the morning and decide that the only thing that will make you happy will be dressing like Demi Moore on a carb bender, that's your business. But when you decide it's time to act like an adult and get some help for your problems, you know where to find me.

Tell Jack that goes double for him.

News outlets are buzzing about Kylie Minogue's newer, stranger mouth, suggesting that perhaps she had a lip procedure done before attending this fashion event in Paris:

[Photo courtesy of Lime-light.org.]

Hmm, lip enhancement? You think?

You know that trick where you put wrap your tongue over your upper lip, which forces the lower one to go all puffy and huge, and you pretend that comically enlarged kisser is your real mouth? I mean, not that I would know anything about such grade-school chicanery, but... that's totally what she looks like.

Her reps, of course, are refusing to comment, perhaps because their client suddenly looks so shockingly like The Joker -- check out the creepy upturn of her mouth -- that there's no way to deny it. And Kylie herself will be unable to offer any insight, as her lips are so weighed down that her facial muscles can't lift them to form words.

And let's not even talk about how creepy her right eye looks behind those shades. Is she tired? Stoned? A victim of an equally bad eye job? Who can say. All I know is, she looks like her own waxwork doppelganger.

Which is so sad, because she was so cute on Neighbours, when her trailer burned down and all her worldly goods were reduced to ashes, and yet somehow her closets survived because she kept wearing all the crazy-loud clothes she wore before the blaze. Those were the days.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Young soap star Ashley Bashioum is the anti-Dunst: She's begging people to notice that she's wearing a bra.

Does no one know how to own and operate a brassiere?

We'd like to offer huge, blushing thanks to the voters for the 2005 Bloggies, who collectively named Go Fug Yourself a finalist in three categories: Best American Weblog, Best Group Weblog, and Most Humorous Weblog.

We are flattered beyond belief, and consider ourselves blessed for the support. If we win, we will light a candle to Courtney Peldon. If we lose... well, we'll still probably light a candle to Courtney Peldon, because let's face it, her poor taste has been an inspiration.

Dear God. Leonor Varela's "dress" looks stolen from a Project Runway challenge, in which the contestants had to make a frock using nothing but heavy-duty Glad trash bags.

Keira looks like she's shooting the touching final scene of Just One of the Guys II: Still Wanging It Up, wherein her character's deception has been revealed, and she's dressing like a proud 1980s female again even though she's completely ruined her hair.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

I don't know who this so-called "Erica Durance" is, but I do know that she forgot to take off her bib before heading into the party. How embarrassing.

Erika Christensen has clearly had a break with reality:

In her mind, it's 1920. She's heading to a big 19th Amendment bash and she's casting her vote for Fugly P. Fugly of the Fugly party. You can tell she's a Fuglyist by the headband.

Also, the lace vest.

And the shoes.

And the way the hem of her skirt makes her look like she's squatting, when she's really standing up straight.

And the choker.

And the headband. Did I mention the headband? Because there is a headband.

I certainly hope the appeal of Prohibition comes quickly in Erika's reality, because it seems that she's been hitting the moonshine. And you know that stuff will make you go blind.

Congratulations to Melania Knauss, now Trump, who by all reports made it down the aisle in the above dress without anyone trying to suspend her from a curtain rod, and without her needing to be towed from place to place. Happily for her, Trump was allegedly still able to navigate around the pounds of fabric and ruffle, and through the swath of mosquito netting around her face, so that he could smooch her three times at the altar.

And so, in honor of overwrought celebrity wedding fugliness, we bring you a flashback photo to one of my personal favorite -- by which I mean, least favorite -- wedding dresses in history: The bejewelled meringue sported by Celine Dion the first time she swapped vows with her old, portly manager whom she met when she was twelve.

That's not a veil; that's a headdress.

Star Magazine is reporting something about Cameron Diaz that I deeply, dearly hope will actually come to pass:

Cameron Diaz won't be wearing a traditional white dress for her wedding to Justin Timberlake. She wants to be married in a traditional Native American dress and has hired a designer to assemble an outfit with beading and moccasins.

Now, before hoardes of teenagers -- and a few adults who need to go outside more often -- hurl themselves onto the sharp spikes of their aborted, doomed love for the Timberlake, please be advised that we have no idea if this rumored wedding is true. But we do know this: Those will be some seriously hilarious pictures.

I have no problem with Native American dress; I just think Cameron Diaz will look ridiculous. And I'm salivating a little.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Poor Peta Wilson. Her pants have gobbled up her left foot, her right foot is teetering on the edge of the same grisly fate, and she's simultaneously getting mauled by a strange woodland creature. So sad.

You know, if that thing is made of real fur, then there's suddenly a delicious irony to Peta Wilson's first name.

Somehow, in a way I can't articulate, Mischa Barton looks like something you might find in a Bed, Bath and Beyond:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Now, I like the color. I think I also like the shoes. But the dress has an unfortunate "tulle lampshade" look to it, which might not matter, if the dress didn't also add her to the list of people who put on strapless things that make their breasts look like they're sinking like stones. Not to mention that it exposes those kicky tan lines stamped on her torso.

I question the choice of whomever dressed Laura Bush for this inaugural gala:

Any inaugural occasion would seem to demand something more formal than what is basically an extremely oversized shirt. The horrendous backdrop coupled with her Little Ma On The Prairie getup gives the impression that the President randomly showed up at a production of Little Mary Sunshine, and wandered on-stage during the curtain call to congratulate the cast.

Behold Daniella Monet, of the Jason "Costanza" Alexander tragedy Listen Up, at the CBS/UPN TCA party:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

The purple boots? The striped legwarmers, carefully chosen to coordinate exactly with the sweater/shirt debacle? The flowered belt?

She would have been better off with the Urban Sombrero.

We here at Go Fug Yourself would like to make it clear that we are not in any way responsible for the recent and unfortunate stabbing of Courtney Peldon. As for the rumors that the stabbing was orchestrated by a crazed Go Fug Yourself follower, we know of no such person, and we're also pretty sure that we just told her prop guy to sneak into her house and replace all her bustiers with turtlenecks. At no time, did we use the words, "knife," "stab," or "make it look like an accident, dude."

We could not condemn this sort of senseless act of violence in the name of fashion more strongly. Stabbing is rarely the answer.

We wish Ms Peldon a speedy recovery and look forward to seeing her next sartorial disaster on the red carpet. Get well, Courtney!

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Olivia Newton-John played it perfectly: Having left the house in a mismatched beaded sweater and olive skirt, she positioned herself next to a girl shrouded in something of such immense tie-dyed fugocity that it would dwarf whatever piddling fug Olivia herself had going.

The girl, singer and former Neighbours actress Holly Valance, appears to be dressed as a grass stain. She's the "before" picture in a Tide commercial. Indeed, in my head, this cozy scene played out with Olivia Newton-John whipping out a large bottle of detergen, dumping on Holly's head, and smiling maniacally as she proceeded to stuff Ms. Valance into a washer-dryer.

Lil' Kim would take one look at this ensemble and snort, "What a prude."

Look, no one is more surprised than I am:

Someone's been taking lessons from Nicole "Girl, I Left The Fug Last Year And Haven't Ever Looked Back" Ritchie. Paris looks so...sweet. Wholesome. Cute. Well-coiffed. Nicely shod. I can't even see her vagina.

If this keeps up, I'm going to be out of a job.

She tried hard to look the part, but producers wanted someone less publicly accomplished in fellatio to play Daisy Duke. Depressed, Chloe went on a bender, finally waking up on the beach one morning next to a nude, malodorous homeless man and thinking, "Well, I always swore that the next time I saw Vincent Gallo naked, I would know it was time to go back home." And off she went.

Until finding this photo, I didn't realize that all this time, Nicole Kidman has secretly wanted to kill us all and drink our sweet, sweet blood:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

The eye makeup... the psychotic look in her eyes... the hint of a smile... Dating Steve Bing must've given her The Evil. She's coming for you, mark my words. Buy garlic.

This year, Mary-Louise didn't have the benefit of being fresh off the birthing table before accepting her award. To compensate, she chose a dress that would shimmer right over her womb and bunch at its emergency-exit hatch, reminding everyone about her incredible courage in the face of the three C's: childbirth, Crudup, and Claire. "Yes, Virginia," she would say, admiring herself in the mirror, "I do have a working vagina."

Does anyone else think that Adam Duritz looks like a Rastafarian Dan Ackroyd?

There's no more graceful way to say it, so I'll just blurt it out: What the hell is this?

Perhaps it's her Halloween costume from the legendary time she went as a dust ruffle. Or maybe Scarlett O'Hara ran off with the dress that's supposed to go over the petticoat, leaving poor Natalie with no option but to go as she was, dressed like a child bride on her wedding night.

Even Ms. Portman apparently knew she'd fugged it up bigtime: For most of the night after her win for Closer, she was wearing someone's suit jacket over this bizarre wifebeater-turned-sundress. That gives us some hope.

Modeling the latest from the Sears Designer Shower Curtain Collection...

... Diane Kruger.

"Hi, up there! Hello, hello! Could you toss me a jacket, or something? I just realized that this dress totally clings to exactly the wrong section of my body. No, I have no idea why I thought it was a good idea, either. Maybe I was won over by the nifty built-in ventilation. Yeah, I know I'm totally beautiful and could do better -- my mother already called me and chewed me out. Just throw down the jacket, punk!"

She seemed too strung out on the red carpet to put together a coherent thought, so maybe when she got dressed La Abdul was too zoned to notice that she grabbed her dress from the Juniors rack:

From the waist down... fine. Maybe a little bit like a stripper at the Aladdin in Las Vegas, but we'll tolerate it because of the more grievous atrocities occuring upstairs.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Sweet Jesus. She has quadra-boob, she has armpit cleavage... Did no one tell her that she's not an A-cup? Did no one gently point out that breasts look nicer when they're not being smashed? Did no one have the nads to suggest that she wear a gown in her own size? Did no one explain that your breasts really shouldn't become one with your armpits?

And did no one take a brush to her hair?

This bodes badly for American Idol -- as if the commercials weren't disastrous enough.

Cate Blanchett shocked us with her polka-dot nightmare, but an eagle-eyed reader sent us a photo that proves she took leave of her sartorial senses long before:

This photo is from the November 2003 premiere of The Missing.
Indeed, this Pretty in Pink-esque outfit puts that of Elizabeth from The Apprentice to shame. Cate's is the mourning version of Molly Ringwald's atrocious frock, as if Andie had made a black one in case she decided to beat the life and the tar out of Blaine behind a dumpster rather than shove her tongue down his throat.

Now, it's my understanding that Ms. Blanchett popped out some spawn in April 2004, so she was sporting a maternity bulge here. But that's no excuse. The preponderance of knocked-up celebs has led to some very attractive maternity wear, much of which Sarah Jessica Parker modeled when she was preggers. So there's really no rational reason why Cate chose this: Not flattering, surely not all that was out there... She didn't have to wrap herself up like a sympathy gift at a wake.

Even the woman in the maroon tights and flats that match her dress is looking at her going, "Was she mugged before the party?"

Faith Evans isn't even trying any more. How do I know this? She's wearing a white ribbon of surrender on her pocket.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Although really, the getup itself advertises complete capitulation on its own -- as if her stylist was begging to be fired, or Evans herself was pleading silently for some help, because by wearing a necktie over the collar of her shirt, not hemming her pants, and throwing a bustier on top of it all, she has publicly taken leave of her decision-making abilities.

Are you trying to get on this web site, Paget? Because I really can accept no other explanation for this outfit. Other, maybe, than complete and total degenerative eye disease, and even that would not excuse the fish purse.

Yes. I said "THE FISH PURSE."

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb]

I am so beside myself that I can barely compose complete sentences. Shall we tackle this with the magic of lists?

a) the shirt...thing? I suspect it's a scarf. And you're worried about it falling down, which is why it's tied so tightly that you've given yourself the dreaded armpit fat bulge. And what's with the target? Seriously. I demand an explanation.

b) the pants...have I taken total leave of my senses, or are they cut off right below the knee, thus showing off what look like shredded black knee socks and TECHNICALLY avoiding the unfortunate Jeans Tucked Into Mukluks Because I Want to Look Three Feet Tall look? Don't do that.

c) The shoes. No.

d) THE FISH PURSE. It's a giant fish. That's also a purse. Now, I am not totally against whimsical accessories. However, when one attempts to carry off a GIANT FISH AS A HANDBAG, the rest of one's outfit should be entirely austere. Maybe something from the Amish country.

Paget, this is your third appearance on Go Fug Yourself. As Heidi Klum might say, "you're out."

It looks like a depressed Twister mat. With feathers.

There has been progress, but she's not quite there yet:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Tara Reid, who despite her small stature is of the biggest moving targets in the entertainment industry, has improved. She is wearing a classy dress, for one thing, and her makeup doesn't make her look like she's been hanging out on the benches between J.C. Penney and Champs Sporting Goods, waiting for some eligible young mallrats to swing by and show her the time of her life.

However, the dress... it looks like it's not supposed to swallow her feet, for one thing, and she probably should have gotten it fitted. But I'll leave that mostly alone, because I'm too busy staring at what this garment has done to her breasts.

We here at Go Fug Yourself are not fond of her boob job already, which is no surprise, but the way this dress hangs, Tara's chest looks three times flatter, droopier, and more pendulous than it probably actually is. Take a closer gander. She looks like she's birthed and breast-fed three children. She's... matronly.

So close, Tara. Keep going, though; you've at least made the turn onto Nicole Richie Blvd., heading north toward a less fugly place.

This is from 2004 as well, a.k.a. The Year of the Fugged-Up Kidman:

[Photo courtesy of Zap2it.com.]

Nicole Kidman spent much of the last year, and possibly beyond that, with altogether the wrong hair color. With the crazy blond hair, her fair skin, and her commitment to emaciation, she ended up looking either crabby or slightly unhinged all the time.

Opinions were divided on this look; some thought she looked classy and ethereal, but I thought she looked like a deranged mermaid flapper. The dress in and of itself, while not my favorite, might have been less offensive if her hair were working for her at all, in any sense. But instead she added a dash of "early 1980s tennis star" to her coif, and the result is, for me, a very unsettling and unflattering getup indeed. In fact, I suspect the woman with the blurry face is laughing .

Well, he's back. But he looks like this:

My eyes! Oh, God!  Won't someone stop the burning?

[Picture courtesy of Zap2It.com's photo database.]

Elizabeth from The Apprentice was very excited for her big night out at the People's Choice Awards. She took her father's gift of beige fabric, borrowed her kooky friend's old prom dress, and assaulted them with some fabric scissors and a sewing machine in order to make the most curiously shaped outfit she could. Sure, she'd been snubbed by the rich guy, but she was going to prove he hadn't broken her spirit.

Also, she had a plan: Find Jon Cryer, stand next to him, and figure that if the rich guy saw her like that he'd totally realize he was interested after all. In which case... well, you know how that one ends.

Suzanne Somers has taken covering it all up to a slightly grim extreme:

The way she's done up, I feel like I ought to be shocked at the daring amount of ankle she's flashing.

Our favorite thighmistress would do well to avoid skirts that bind her famous legs into relative immobility. It looks like she had to throw her hip out of joint just to strike a jaunty pose -- and the aggressively zipped-up and puffy top/jacket combo, which looks faintly like it belongs under a suit of armor, swallows her whole.

Oh, and Suzanne, ditch the cutesy braids. I don't care why you chose them or how old you are; I just know you're not a milkmaid, and you're not twelve.

I was going to write a piece about how Satin Is Rarely Flattering, Especially If You Are Of A Certain Age, but Mary Hart's Shirley Temple 'do is giving me seizures.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

"You don't think this is a flattering outfit? Surely you're kidding! Any dress that is specifically constructed to create the illusion of rolls of flab is a great idea! Add the gathered hem on the skirt -- so created to make me look blocky and weird in the hips -- and the mini-cape-sleeves-thingy, and you've got fashion gold, people! Gold! It's a gown specially designed to cut the wearer's body off at EXACTLY the weirdest and least flattering areas of her body! And you know what makes it even better? My crappy posture! I RULE!"

In the absence of a strong, crotch-exposing breeze, Bai Ling has chosen to make sure other things could potentially pop out as well.

Actually, this is downright demure for The Ling. But sadly for her, strapless tops that start about an inch or two above the waist are generally incredibly unflattering on a woman, because it makes the chest look flatter than Hilary Duff straining for a high note. Bai Ling, generally appropriately petite-of-cup for her frame, is no exception: She looks like she doesn't have breasts, so much as knobs.

Won't someone just put this girl out of her misery?

She's got a target right there on her chest already.

I appreciate Christina's sartorial departure from Hollywood Blvd. chic, but the retro-squeaky-clean approach has gotten a little out of hand:

With the golden-green sparkly sheen, it looks like she's making herself into a doll. [Albeit perhaps a doll who'd been up all night nauseated by a hangover and is trying to cover it.] If she'd back off a bit from looking like a plastic Marilyn impersonator, she'd be in decent shape -- if Madame Tussaud's doesn't think she's a runaway waxwork and nail her down next to her fire-crotched alter-ego for an exhibit entitled, "From Fug To Femme: The Cleansing of Christina."

I'm almost grateful for the flash of cleavage, because it proves she hasn't completely abandoned her... abandon. But I feel like she's a dye job away from reinventing herself on Broadway as Little Orphan Annie, and then what? She's already bet her bottom dollar, and mark my words, there was no sun.

My dear Mischa,

I thought you said your New Year's Resolution was to wear fewer sequins.

Giving up so soon? Or was this photo snapped prior to the first of the year, and this is your Farewell to Sequins swansong? In which case, way to go out with a bang, sweetpea.

I admire your sense of adventure, fashion-wise, but don't you think this might be a little bit much, you know, for a beach cover-up? Maybe it's a little....clash-y? I mean, there's a lot going on there. You look a little bit like a slot machine, all bright blinking lights and distracting spangles and sparkly trim.

I must admit, however, that your ice cream cone looks divine. Chocolate-dipped cone? Well played, my dear. Well played, indeed.