I love a good sequined dress. There's an adorable one hanging sadly in my closet because I have no occasion to wear it, and I may have enabled Jessica awhile back into purchasing a really hot one -- which, tragically, she has not had occasion to wear either, because we don't often throw ourselves formal parties and we're not big Los Angeles party girls. We'd generally rather eat red velvet cake -- or drink a Black Velvet, belt out "Black Velvet" in the car, watch Blue Velvet, or gently pet a velvet Elvis -- than contend with any velvet ropes.
That said, there are times when the mighty sequin backfires.
[Photo: Splash News]
One such time might be when you are Carrie Underwood, and you are wearing a dress that Liza Minnelli would employ as a blouse. The angel on my shoulder keeps saying to the devil that's dancing on my collarbone, "But look! It's so shiny and pretty!" And the devil breaks into "New York, New York," at which point the angel mutters something about Lucille Two and how Arrested Development was amazing, and the devil pulls out a photo of David Gest, and suddenly the angel is doing shots of Jim Beam. It's a confusing time.
