Christina Aguilera

September 25, 2009

Fuggie In A Bottle

So this is kind of...

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I mean, it's not totally... but there's that part... it's like her pelvis is... or maybe it's stretched, like... and I just don't... it's like it ran out of... and I can't really... you know? I mean, right? God, I'm so glad we had this talk.

If they ever remake The Warriors, I think they could give Christina Aguilera a cameo as the leader of a vicious Accessory Gang that rules its territory with an iron scarf.

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It's not even that the outfit itself is so poisonous -- although there is a lot going on, from the admittedly killer shoes to the tight cuffed jeans artfully distressed, to the long tee and cropped blazer and scarf and rings and blue nail polish and lipstick as red as Ferris Bueller's Ferrari. No, what really caps this whole ensemble for me is the fact that Christina looks like she wants to punch us all in our innocent, vulnerable throats (once she's done backcombing her hair, that is). The general air of being aroused by her own animosity both scares me and sours me on the clothes, because all I can see is her grinning maniacally as she snaps that scarf between her hands and menaces some sad photographer who is just trying to get her to smile.

Also, maybe I spoke too soon:

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Maybe the outfit IS poisonous. It's like my grandmother always would have said, had we ever discussed ths issue: "Bedazzled blazers tell no lies." She was wise.

November 11, 2008

Ain't No Other Fug But You

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"DUDES. You should have been there last night. After 2 a.m., I still had three cauldrons going at once, everyone was chanting, and if you've never tried eye of newt... well, let's just say I woke up four hours later in a pile of twelve people, some popcorn, and a Chia Pet. You know how it goes."
October 17, 2008

Save Me From My Fug

Well, I can't see what's under the cute coat.

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[Photo: WENN]

But if this is all the enthusiasm SHE can muster, something tells me I don't want to know.

PS: And that's a big no on the lipstick shade, C.Ag. You look like you've been making out with an ice sculpture.

PPS: How much foundation does it take to cover not only your face, but all that cleavage? In these trying economic times, might it be a good idea to make cuts in your decolletage budget? Just wondering.

October 16, 2008

Back To Fugsics

When it came to Christina Aguilera, I used to think to myself, "Honey, a little hoochie goes a long way." And now I'm saying the same about Pucci.

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Not that she wants to hear it, as evidenced by her spectacular "TALK TO THE HAND, bitches" face. But you know what, Christina? I WILL talk to your hand. I will look it in the palm and say, "Look, Hand, you did good work buckling those hot shoes. For real. But the pattern over her boobs kind of reminds me of that scene in Star Wars where they identify the Death Star's key weakness and how to exploit it. And the shirt, the bangs, and the makeup are so aggressive that she doesn't even look like herself any more. Know whose fault that is? YOURS, and your little friend on the other side who helps put all this stuff on her in the first place. So DIAL DOWN THE BETRAYAL, Hando Calrissian, because everyone knows that pawns of the Dark Side usually end up dead anyway."

She really is almost unrecognizable. Let's go in for a close-up:
One of our eagle-eyed reader sent in this pic of Christina Aguilera, noting that when she first caught a quick glimpse of it, she thought, "Damn! Donatella Versace got some good work done!"

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And now that's all I can think of when I see this. Because it's TRUE. She looks like she's about ten minutes away from screaming for some tan, oiled-up dudes to carry her out of the venue on their muscular shoulders. Which would actually be kind of awesome, so carry on.
September 3, 2008

Fugged to Basics

Uh, you guys? Which one of you said you were going to talk to Christina about her makeup?

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[Photo: Splash]

I KNOW I assigned one of you to that at our last meeting. Did you and the dude who was supposed to be handling Celebrities Wearing The Wrong Size Shoe, and the people on the No One Else Can See What Size It Is, So Go Up One If You Have To task force just go out for drinks, or something? DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE?

Okay, okay. I accept your apology. And you're right: I had reassigned all of you to the Emergency WTF Is Up With Those Jeans Katie Holmes Keeps Wearing? Squad. But that's under control now. I need you guys back on the Aguilera beat.

Oh, and hey! When you confront her, maybe you can show her this, to remind her how fresh and young and gorgeous she can look when she loses the mask?

Well, this is one way to officially confirm your pregnancy:

As well as your tragic addiction to bronzer, last night's eye liner and those bitchin' cropped jackets of fashion's proudest decade, the 80s. There IS something hilarious about this photo being juxtaposed with the headline, "Tanning, bleaching, botox: ARE YOU OBSESSED?" as Xtina here looks to be deeply in thrall to at least two of said vices. I'm just not quite sure what either Our Lady of the Bleach or Marie Claire were thinking: Christina's been nothing if not sexily classing it up since marrying her baby daddy, and while there is a less tacky way to pose nude on the cover of a magazine...this ain't it.

November 6, 2006

Ain't No Other Fug But You

I had hoped we were past the days of Christina Aguilera giving us all a window into her lingerie drawer. Although, even she looks sort of put-out and unimpressed -- perhaps her she's frustrated that her breasts are capable of independent and rash action, having decided to stretch a fishnet stocking over their entireties to better commit a bank robbery without capable eyewitnesses.

And she'd been doing so well lately. Was Jordan Bratman out of town? I guess it just goes to show that you can drag the girl out of the dirrty, but you can't always drag the dirrty out of the girl.

It is apparently a day of mercy here at GFY; the compliments are just flowing from our poisoned fingertips.

But when confronted with this latest evidence that Christina Aguilera's really dirrrrrty days may be well and truly behind her, I couldn't contain myself. I am human. I love clothes. I love to shop. And were I shopping right this second, I would consider it the luckiest day ever if I walked away with every item here:

She looks fantastic. The kicky retro red dress with pea-coat accents, the trench, the sexy leopard shoes and bag, the artfully tousled mane -- it's all great. I've never been a huge fan of massive, colored plastic sunglass rims, but even those are the perfect accessory here.

Who'd have thought our girl in the black leather jumpsuit -- the original Firecrotch, in a way -- would engineer this kind of fashionable turnaround? Even her Marilyn makeover, while a game and welcome stab, often seemed to veer too far in the other direction. But this? This is divine. This is, we hope, the Fuguilera spectrum nearest its point of normalcy.

I applaud her, and I bask in the glow of Jordan Bratman's style-healing wang. Here's hoping he helped complete her journey by chucking the jumpsuit in the Goodwill pile, or, better, sending it off to Fergie so she could appropriately christen her solo career. We would never spot urine stains on that thing.

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