Tyra Banks

"Okay, Tyra, this is great. It's magical. You're a rock star, Tyra. You've STILL GOT IT."

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[All photos: PacificCoastNewsOnline.com]

"But remember, you've got to sell the clothes, Tyra. Do you not watch your own show? This says nothing to me. Are they capri pants? Is it a jumpsuit? I don't know. I need more. Also, I can't see your left hand. Janice Dickinson would say you look like an amputee. Can you fix all that? But with WHIMSY? You're still a mannequin in a store window, but you're a mannequin with PIZAZZ. You GET IT. Okay? Now hit me with your best:
Not so much, Tyra.

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[Photo: PacificCoastNewsOnline.com]

If you wore those pants to one of your own judgings, you'd lecture yourself about how a model has to learn how to dress, so she can walk into the room looking both edgy and unique and like a blank slate; oozing personality but also being bland enough not to offend anyone; understanding that high-waisted cargo-breeches that make it appear you have wet yourself with fear are NEVER okay unless you're doing an ad for Depends.

And then you'd make put yourself in the bottom two, because that week's photo shoot did not pertain to Things That Happen To You When You're Five, and you'd proceed to cut yourself for not having any kind of sexy disease -- unless the girl next to you doesn't have one, either, in which case you'd decide to keep yourself on the grounds that incontinence needs a new Beautiful Young Face. Then you'd have yourself on your talk show and get a People cover headlined, "Who You Callin' Urine-Soaked?!?"

All of which probably sounds kind of appealing to you. But since we don't want to look at those pants ever again, we'd all prefer it if you went home and changed.
January 5, 2009

2009: Fresh Year, Stale Fug

One nice thing about wiping 2008 off my mental dry-erase board, and training myself to write the date correctly on all my checks, is that I figure there's got to be a new trend coming down the pike that will leave me pleasantly infuriated and maybe even a little nauseated by the force of my own confusion. You know, like what jumpsuits and high-waisted jeans did for me in 2007 and 2008.

So, of COURSE, my first photo-scavenging expedition of 2009 resulted in the regurgitation of that old insidious criminal: leggings. And on one of the usual suspects.

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[Photo: FlynetOnline.com]

You know what else hasn't changed in the new year? LEGGINGS STILL AREN'T PANTS. Take a memo, Lohan. Jot it down right under "beg Tina Fey to write another movie role for you" and "prune hair extensions."

But Lindsay wasn't the only offender:
And now Top Model is over. Our Wednesday nights at 8 just got a little less booked (thank god: juggling Pushing Daisies, Top Model and Bones was starting to get to me. What kind of monster expects you to choose between Tyra Banks, David Boreanez, and baked goods?).  Too bad this cycle didn't go out with much of a bang. Well, unless you're counting Tyra's spectacular finale wardrobe. And we are:

"Heather: And the SECOND ONE, with the sharp shoulder pads ... somebody wants to be Joan Collins.
Jessica: I also thought she sort of looked like she had just beamed down from the mother ship."

I know what you're wondering: But how did National Treasure: Book of Secrets play into this? I wish I could explain that myself. It just DOES. Read and comment here, my gentle readers.
How sad am I that security wouldn't let us get anywhere near the front rows at Calvin Klein? For that reason I missed the sassy anecdote that I'm SURE should accompany this photo of Lauren Hutton:

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I hope she's saying, "What the hell is with these jumpsuit cuffs? Am I on death row? I DON'T THINK SO."

-- Also at Thursday's Calvin Klein show: Miss Tyra totally stole all the thunder and a paparazzo yelled at Rachel Zoe. I never thought I'd feel bad for her, but lo and behold, my heart grew three sizes that day.

-- We were very concerned that Anna Wintour's longtime boyfriend's daughter might go into labor in the middle of the Vera Wang show. That would make one hell of a review: "So good, my water broke!" Also, does that make Anna a step-grandmother of sorts? I'm sure the very thought gives her the vapors.

-- At Phi, Emmy Rossum wore dominatrix shoes. Also, in typing up that story, I kept mistyping the word "public" as "pubic," and then I would notice the typo and go in to fix it and type "pubic" AGAIN. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

-- Cynthia Rowley tried to kill everyone at her show. She may not have REALIZED that's what was going on, but seriously, anyone who wasn't Julia Stiles or Tatum O'Neal put his or her life on the line just trying to get into a seat.

-- Diane Kruger didn't bring Pacey to Tommy Hilfiger. HOW DARE SHE DO THAT TO US?
August 14, 2008

Well Played, Tyra Banks

It shocks me to say this about anyone with crimped hair, but... I think Tyra Banks looks pretty great here, actually:

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[Photo: INFDaily.com]

I mean, this is a woman who usually looks like she plucked her gown off a window in Versailles, or as if she is actually an aristocrat Marie Antoinette's court who is about a week away from a sweaty revolutionary giving her the chop for her excesses. She is also prone to coifs that look like an homage to a fruit bowl. And that's just scratching the surface. Tyra Banks is nothing if not a comparative science, and I have to say, this simpler dress with all the bracelets is refreshingly chic and sleek after all that hoo-ha. Sure, the material lays a little lumpy in places, but... seriously, whenever I have second thoughts about whether this dress is worth a pat on the back, I click back on that link to what she wore to the Daytime Emmys and it's an affirmation. Yes, I cherish Tyra for all her overwrought excesses -- hers is in my top five of Wig Closets And Wardrobes I Must Visit Before I Die -- but sometimes it's nice to see a reminder that there's a lovely woman underneath all that hair and slap and pounds of fabric.

Over the past several years, I have had many different feelings about Tyra Banks, ranging from, "This show is brilliant," to, "Oh my god, is Tyra singing?" to, "Her wig is spectacular today." And yet until now I never looked at her and thought, "Is Ty-Ty Baby matching her hair to her dress?"

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During recent election coverage, political strategist/super delegate/talking head Donna Brazile explained her role in the Democratic party to Anderson Cooper by saying, "I wear many wigs."  As does Tyra (literally and figuratively). She runs her own media empire, but also teaches young women everywhere the importance of elongating the neck. She is a failed pop star, but also a super successful talk show host. She has provided countless hours of Top Model marathons, artfully constructed to destroy weekend productivity around the world, but also suffers from a debilitating fear of dolphins. But one wig I'd never thought I'd see her take on was the one of the woman who matches her hair to her dress. Tyra! You're many things, but bland is not supposed to be one of them!

Oh, Miss Tyra, you do amuse us so. We like to call this touching portrait A Girl And Her Twinkie:

Gotta respect a woman who not only puts greasy baked goods in her mouth, but thinks it's fun for it to happen on camera. And also, I know some people out there want us to stop yapping about Miss Tyra's wig or weave or whatever we feel like calling it that day -- it could be both, or neither; it is all things, and yet it is nothing -- and we do feel you. We do. But seriously, HOW do you expect us to do that? How? We are but mortal. We adore her crazy hair. It's impossible to resist discussing something that looks so heavy and itchy and as if it was recently shorn from the business end of a horse. So, with apologies to those non-congratulators, we not only can't not reference it, but in fact, it gets its own affectionate section in our book  -- which, shameless plug ahoy, hits stores today. The City of New York is courteously throwing a parade to honor the occasion, although I think there is some nonsense about us sharing the party with Michael Strahan and Eli Manning. Pish. We call shenanigans on that.

Here's what we were up to while Tyra was romancing her snack cake:

September 7, 2007

The Tyra Banks Fug

Okay, I know we said we wouldn't be posting this week, but sometimes the rules bend -- and sometimes they break like the hard-working fingers of Lady Tyra Banks' all-star weaveology squad.

So, sure, we're working hard over here, but obviously, so are they. A creation like that deserves a little unscheduled recognition. I don't even care that she's wearing granny booties I'm not entirely sure about, nor that her sleeves may have once adorned the scalp of a few rich, vain New York financiers. When you prance around town wearing a crown of hair that shiny, that randomly spiky, and that reminisce of a deluxe baked good, it tends to eclipse everything else. It has totally eclipsed my heart, that's for sure.

When I was watching the Daytime Emmy Awards the other night -- look, we all know I love soaps, and we all know I REALLY love awards shindigs, so it was a pretty marriage of my favorite things -- I did a double-take when Ellen DeGeneres won for best talk show host. Not because I didn't think she deserved it; rather, it was because when she got up to accept the award, she walked past what appeared to be a giant cake, and high-fived it.

My first thought was, "Wow,  I love Ellen. I mean, if that woman is hanging out with person-sized baked goods, clearly I need to be in her entourage." Then I thought, "No, her Ellentourage. HA!" And then I realized I was a) making bad jokes out loud while totally alone, and b) sitting on the couch on a Friday watching an awards show without any of my bitches around, all of which made it even SADDER when I noticed that the aforementioned cake was not a delicious dessert treat but, in fact, one Miss Tyra Banks.

The good news is, Tyra has found a way to conceal the wig tape.

The BETTER news is that if Lindsay Lohan keeps wetting the bed all over her once-promising career, pretty soon they'll reunite so that Tyra can recycle this dress as the living doll in Life Size 2: Sleeping Booty.

Unless this was a challenge for the next season of America's Next Top Model, wherein the girls had to learn what it takes to be Tyra by hiding under her gown. That skirt could conceal at least ten model-sized people -- nine and a half if she has a fake plus-size person in the group. And that is why we love Miss Tyra. Why wear enough dress for one person when you could wear one the size of Luxembourg?

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