Sweet, sweet Carmit, a.k.a. The Mannish Redhead Who Quit The Pussycat Dolls And Has Since Dropped Off The Radar:
On the one hand, I want to give you a Well Played, just for the fact that you are distancing yourself from the Pussycat Dolls vibe of leather leotards and mesh pants. But on the other hand... BORING. You look like you just spend the day on the beach, and threw those shoes in the car so you could stop off at apl.de.ap's party on the way home.
Now, I know it's confusing when we fug you for looking like a Pussycat Doll and then we fug you for NOT looking like one. I am confused myself. I can't explain my own feelings. Why do I still watch Private Practice? Why do I sit through American Idol when every judge except Simon makes me stabby? Why do I love the word "persnickety" yet not use it nearly enough? These are the mysteries with which I grapple daily, and the whole "you can never satisfy my dark heart" fug thing is another such enigma. But, I mean: Surely you didn't have to leap straight from bike shorts and bustiers to what could pass as a swimsuit coverup and a $4 hat. You skipped over so much in between. Like the entire spectrum of trousers, or the dress section at Barney's. Or Bloomies. You could look cuter, OR you could look a tad more flavorful, without actually retreating back into the sartorial crack den that is Robin Antin's universe. If you have a solo career on tap -- and Wikipedia claims you do -- you will have to do a whole lot better in order to stand out. Because frankly, the only way I remembered your name is that it sounds like "car meat" and your hair is accordingly very red. I'm serious. Maybe you should name your album "Car Meat On Your Grill" or something.
And then throw out the hat. It might be the root of your problems.
On the one hand, I want to give you a Well Played, just for the fact that you are distancing yourself from the Pussycat Dolls vibe of leather leotards and mesh pants. But on the other hand... BORING. You look like you just spend the day on the beach, and threw those shoes in the car so you could stop off at apl.de.ap's party on the way home.
Now, I know it's confusing when we fug you for looking like a Pussycat Doll and then we fug you for NOT looking like one. I am confused myself. I can't explain my own feelings. Why do I still watch Private Practice? Why do I sit through American Idol when every judge except Simon makes me stabby? Why do I love the word "persnickety" yet not use it nearly enough? These are the mysteries with which I grapple daily, and the whole "you can never satisfy my dark heart" fug thing is another such enigma. But, I mean: Surely you didn't have to leap straight from bike shorts and bustiers to what could pass as a swimsuit coverup and a $4 hat. You skipped over so much in between. Like the entire spectrum of trousers, or the dress section at Barney's. Or Bloomies. You could look cuter, OR you could look a tad more flavorful, without actually retreating back into the sartorial crack den that is Robin Antin's universe. If you have a solo career on tap -- and Wikipedia claims you do -- you will have to do a whole lot better in order to stand out. Because frankly, the only way I remembered your name is that it sounds like "car meat" and your hair is accordingly very red. I'm serious. Maybe you should name your album "Car Meat On Your Grill" or something.
And then throw out the hat. It might be the root of your problems.
