A number of readers have written this morning to express concern for Blake Lively, who evidently failed to impress last night in her chosen ensemble. In order to tackle its assorted issues, I thought I'd put her triphasic outfit on trial.
Exhibit A: Arrival.
The prosecution sneers at the semi-haphazard layering on display and gears up for a rousing chorus of "You've Got To Pick A Pocket Or Two." But before it can burst into song, the defense jumps in to point out that it was probably somewhere in the low 60s in New York last night, so the layers may have had an actual purpose. The judge sustains that objection and the defense celebrates with a kick-line.
Next up for your consideration is Exhibit B:
Exhibit A: Arrival.
The prosecution sneers at the semi-haphazard layering on display and gears up for a rousing chorus of "You've Got To Pick A Pocket Or Two." But before it can burst into song, the defense jumps in to point out that it was probably somewhere in the low 60s in New York last night, so the layers may have had an actual purpose. The judge sustains that objection and the defense celebrates with a kick-line.
Next up for your consideration is Exhibit B:
The prosecution cackles that removing the offending coat yet still posing for photos suggests it couldn't have been THAT cold outside, and further wonders why her sleeves appear to be made of totally different fabric than the rest of the dress. The defense stops dancing on its chairs, corks its flagons of moonshine, and sighs deeply -- then brightens and suggests that perhaps Blake realized her tights were keeping her warm enough. The prosecution crows that the tights are part of the problem: with the shoes, the scarves, and the dress, it's all just way too much. As they begin to celebrate with "Oom Pah Pah," the defense tries to call Bill Sykes as a witness but is rejected on the grounds that he doesn't exist. Out of bitterness, one of them filches the lead prosecutor's wallet.
Exhibit C: Leaving the party.
The defense attorneys stare mutely at the dress and then hurriedly scribble notes about how the skirt is sort of pleasingly old-school... but run out of steam soon after and beat their heads with their hands. The prosecution offers its opponents a V-8, and then triumphantly points out that she looks four months pregnant and that her side-boob is bursting out of the top. The defense mournfully croons a verse of "As Long As (S)He Needs Me" before shuffling out of the courtroom, leaving the prosecutors to whip out those casks of ale and sing more rowdy bar shanties. The judge holds both sides in contempt for not mentioning that Blake is wearing a bracelet over her sleeve and sends the jury away to deliberate.
