Phoebe Price

Don't kid yourself. Don't kid me. I know what you've been thinking. I know what was on your mind this entire weekend. It wasn't, "am I allowed to eat potato salad for breakfast?" It wasn't, "I wonder if that cute boy will call me." It wasn't even, "Oh my god, what am I going to do without Lost for the next six years or however long I have to wait for the season after this one." It was, "I wonder what that Phoebe Price person wore to Cannes?"  The good news is, dear reader, that I have answers to all those questions, and they are: yes, he better, cry, and this:

Not bad, considering her past, right? A little Most Expensive Gift Bag at The Container Store, but in comparison to her usual get-ups, kind of nice and understated.

But she was just warming herself up.

One of my favorite things about all these photos is how totally uninterested the photographers behind her are. If you look at pictures of like, Angelina and Brad, ALL photographers within a ten mile radius are screaming hard enough to induce a stroke. These guys are thinking about lunch. Or maybe just looking away from her kissy-face because they've heard the old French proverb, "If P-Squared thee kiss, thy wallet ye will miss." (How else do you think she affords the vast amount of patterned silk required for her Cannes wardrobe? It's all artful pickpocketry of one kind or another.)

This one is just eye-crossing, but I must applaud her artful use of the bikini top at a red carpet event. Clearly, she's avoiding the bottoms due to recent bathing-suit-related traumas:

But this -- though she clearly should be commended for artful recyling of Steven Tyler's old mic stand scarves -- was just the warm-up for the P-Squared Cannes Pièce de Résistance:

Occasionally, people email us and are like, "don't give Phoebe Price any more attention! That's what she wants! If you ignore her, maybe she'll GO AWAY!" And I see your point. However, would you really want to go through your life without having experienced this:

I didn't think so.

[Photo: INF Daily]

"Why, hello! I didn't see you there. I just happened to be standing outside on the sidewalk here with my knitting, in boots made of recycled handbags from 2004 and what I shamefully must admit is actually a really kind of cute dress, reading! Just reading! It's fundamental. What am I reading? Oh, The Economist, I think. What? Wait! Oh, what is this? Is this Star Magazine? And I  --  I, Phoebe Price -- just happen to be featured on the page facing outward toward the camera? No! That's impossible. I thought I was reading The New Yorker. This is clearly a copy of The Atlantic Monthly! I'd NEVER stand around and pose with a picture of myself being shamed by the fashion police, just for more press. NEVER, I tell you! Never!"

In case you were wondering what Frequent Fug Offender Phoebe Price was up to:

I like the idea that she's maybe stalking Juliette Lewis in hopes of joining Juliette's wildly be-legginged punk band. Or maybe this adorable little personage on the front of her frock is the latest effort from one of those low-rent, non-Disney, non-Pixar animation houses who release endless DVDs about princesses, mermaids and mermaid-princesses in the hopes of getting sleep-deprived parents to accidentally buy one of them at Target, and she's rented out her chest to them as ad space. Next week, maybe her entire body will be covered in ads, like those cars you see slowly weaving down Hollywood Boulevard completely wrapped in informational material about the girls at Spearment Rhino.

You know, after a long and unpredictable day of work, there's something very refreshing about the very existence of Phoebe Price. I know that if she chooses to leave the house, she will be wearing something somehow noteworthy, either thanks to extreme shine, excessive nakedness, or overall over-the-top kookiness. Kind of like she's constantly raiding the closets of the world's flashiest ice dancers:

This costume, I like to think, was for a routine skated to an unholy mash-up of  Guys and Dolls' "Take Back Your Mink"  and Donna Summer's "Bad Girls," punctuated by a brief poignant interlude to "Nights in White Satin." And frankly, I would pay good money to see that.

The Scene: the Ivy (of course.)

The Players: Phoebe Price, her remarkably shapeless yet still cornea-scrambling dress, and Frederic Prinz von Anhalt (wearing a giant ass Mr. T-style gold medallion which is tragically not visible in this shot), whom you may remember as Zsa Zsa Gabor's ninth husband, who claimed he was pretty sure he was Dannielynn Birkhead's father. Wikipedia being the font of knowledge that it is, I have also recently learned that Prinz von Anhalt did not want to divorce Zsa Zsa to marry Anna Nicole, so he allegedly just drew up papers to adopt her instead, which Zsa Zsa (rightfully) refused to sign. Can I just say that someone needs to work that scenario into a soap opera? Thank you.

[Photo: Splash News]

You know things are grim when P-Squared, who would happily pose for photographs outside the Manson compound, is like, "yeah, leave me alone. No. Please, seriously. I can't have Zsa Zsa mad at me. I won't marry you when she kicks it. For real." And he's like, "no, no, I just want to brush your hair! I mean nothing by it! We're not dating, paparazzi! Hands off! It's a totally hands off policy here!" And the paparazzi are like, "are we SERIOUSLY photographing these two? Where the f is Lohan when you need her?"

I know you've all been wondering what Phoebe Price has been up to in 2008. The answer is a simple one:

Emulating Paris Hilton with an expression of mild resentment on her face.

A couple of months ago, we broke our long-standing silence on premiere and party fixture Phoebe Price. Her special brand of fashion-related crimes were too fascinating to be ignored. And since it's been a while, it felt like it might be time to check in with our not-at-all-famous red-carpet-fixture, especially since it seems she went to Cannes (her trip paid for, surely, by the....um. She clearly went to promote.... She's obviously there for..... Well, she's there).

Imagine our surprise when we realized that she didn't look half-bad in Cannes (you know, comparatively). Maybe a quarter-bad (okay, three-eighths bad. Okay, she did look half bad, but we expected it to be Whole Bad). Remember, we're talking about this woman:

That's ONE way to do the Reese Witherspoon Yellow Dress/Red Shoes look. It's also one way to do the considerably less popular Embroidered Hot Air Balloon(?) Floating Crown (?) Look.

So let's toddle down to Cannes with Ms Price and see what she pulled out of her Louis Vuitton trunk for the week, shall we?