I think I'm starting to view Kirsten Dunst as a friendly but hapless cousin, or a beloved sports team that can't stop shooting itself in the foot. Every time I see that she's at an event, I catch my breath a little and wince, hoping against hope that she will look fabulous and yet fully bracing myself for the quarterback to get his ass sacked so hard it leaves a divot in the turf.
So it was here. I furrowed my brow in anticipation... and you know what? She kind of pulled it out, the little minx.
[Photo: WENN.com]
The marbled fabric makes the bandaged look rather interesting, especially now that I know the strip across the top is not, in fact, reflective (the first time I looked at it, I was like, "I don't understand how it helps to have a mirror showing off the underside of her chin... is she on Unlikely Zit Patrol?"). The lightly colored netting on her shoulder, I'm less sold on, but overall this is interesting and it fits and it's mostly holding her boobs up in the right place. These are all victories. Especially that last one. It's kind of like my football team taking a seemingly safe lead into the fourth quarter, allowing me to get up off the floor and take a break from screaming to rehydrate and coax all the blood away from my face and back to the extremities that need it.
But then we get to the shoes. I'm REALLY not convinced they belong with this dress -- they feel too casual, too chunky in a non-chic way, and for my money, too ugly. I understand wanting to contrast the delicacy of the dress, but there's "contrast" and then there's "torching it with your candles of hate." So getting down to her feet is a bit like my team resting on its laurels in the final quarter and playing prevent defense and getting sloppy, and throwing a stupid interception that gets run back for a touchdown and then forgetting how to tackle the opposing team and suddenly it's their first-and-goal with 30 seconds left and your defense looks gassed and the stupid three-win opponent looks poised to steal its fourth from you on your home field and you're out of Diet Coke and the chips on the table are stale and suddenly you find yourself being restrained by your loved ones lest you punch a hole in the wall.
So it was here. I furrowed my brow in anticipation... and you know what? She kind of pulled it out, the little minx.
[Photo: WENN.com]
The marbled fabric makes the bandaged look rather interesting, especially now that I know the strip across the top is not, in fact, reflective (the first time I looked at it, I was like, "I don't understand how it helps to have a mirror showing off the underside of her chin... is she on Unlikely Zit Patrol?"). The lightly colored netting on her shoulder, I'm less sold on, but overall this is interesting and it fits and it's mostly holding her boobs up in the right place. These are all victories. Especially that last one. It's kind of like my football team taking a seemingly safe lead into the fourth quarter, allowing me to get up off the floor and take a break from screaming to rehydrate and coax all the blood away from my face and back to the extremities that need it.
But then we get to the shoes. I'm REALLY not convinced they belong with this dress -- they feel too casual, too chunky in a non-chic way, and for my money, too ugly. I understand wanting to contrast the delicacy of the dress, but there's "contrast" and then there's "torching it with your candles of hate." So getting down to her feet is a bit like my team resting on its laurels in the final quarter and playing prevent defense and getting sloppy, and throwing a stupid interception that gets run back for a touchdown and then forgetting how to tackle the opposing team and suddenly it's their first-and-goal with 30 seconds left and your defense looks gassed and the stupid three-win opponent looks poised to steal its fourth from you on your home field and you're out of Diet Coke and the chips on the table are stale and suddenly you find yourself being restrained by your loved ones lest you punch a hole in the wall.
