Life after Melrose Place must be rough. It's got to be hard to be colorful -- surely everything in life seems so hopelessly devoid of hue when compared with that rich, lusty universe. Especially because a day without Michael Mancini and all his smug, gleeful treachery is like a football team without tight pants: rather less glorious, and indeed, faintly alarming.
But some people do still try. Marcia Cross, for one, is making a game stab. Kelly Rutherford, on the other hand, seems to have blah-ed herself into oblivion.
Now, I understand the perils of fair skin, being pale as Casper myself. But the way some people counterbalance that is with sporting, say, an actual hair color, or some eyebrow tint, or even a spot of makeup. They also tend not to wear colors that make them look consumptive.
As far as the dress itself looking fresh from Gymboree's summer line, well, that's just sad and wrong no matter how dreary and wan you look.
Oh, Kelly. It didn't have to be like this. And it's not like you haven't worked at all... what's the deal, here? Is it just that nothing seems worth it any more? Because I'm sure we could find you a reason to spruce it up a little. Gay Matt found it on ABC. Jack Wagner found it on daytime TV (and by ironing out more than a few things on his face, methinks). Lisa Rinna managed to extract some meaning from her life after Melrose by being dragged around on a reality program in what amounts to sequined netting. Which, hey, one girl's costly psychological trauma is another girl's pig-in-shit fantasy. Props to her. So what can we do for you?
I think step one is a dye job (or if she's pregnant, some organic dye a la Britney, or a wig; surely she could ask Marcia about wigs) and some lip gloss.
