Jessica already shone our judgmental spotlight on Whitney Port's head-wreath and crazy jacket, but I stumbled upon a glimpse of her full outfit and couldn't resist enabling us all to gawk at it. See, Whitney -- for the uninitiated, who (if they exist) have
a wonderful, wonderful existence and should cherish it -- is a girl who, generally, seems to
have an aversion to anything that is not either skintight pants, or
skirts that put at least three-quarters of her skinny, mile-long legs
on display. And that's fine; she should flaunt it while she's got it. But they even went so far as to stage a shot on The City of her
wearing a crotch-skimming mini to her first day at work, walking past
some construction workers who -- instead of hooting -- patted each
other supportively on the shoulder as if to say, "Someday, Billy. If
you dream big, someday you, too, can have 44-inch legs with the
approximate thigh circumference of a bowling pin." In short, if Whitney isn't the
mayor of Leg City, then she's at least the head of the town's zoning
commission.
Which is why this is so hilarious. I'd have sooner expected Whitney to cut this thing off where the light purple becomes dark and wear THAT as a dress on its own:
Instead, she's about ten seconds away from making a maypole out of a nearby street lamp and performing "Age of Aquarius" on her trusty blade of grass. I'll slip her an extra Benjamin if she can get Spencer on the pan flute.
Which is why this is so hilarious. I'd have sooner expected Whitney to cut this thing off where the light purple becomes dark and wear THAT as a dress on its own:
Instead, she's about ten seconds away from making a maypole out of a nearby street lamp and performing "Age of Aquarius" on her trusty blade of grass. I'll slip her an extra Benjamin if she can get Spencer on the pan flute.
