Courtney Love

Courtney, Courtney, Courtney.

Actually, I don't know that I have much to complain about right now. i am weary of the baby-pink lipstick everyone is wearing these days, which makes it look like they are mouthless mannequins. But the dress -- or coat; whatever -- isn't offensive necessarily. It's SHORT, but you know what? I'm really tired. Fashion Week is ending and the Oscars are on Sunday, and I'm all tapped out of crotch jokes. I need to save whatever mojo is left in that arena, in the event that Meryl Streep wears a buttock-scraper this weekend or Mickey Rourke decides to put on a gown with a giant slit up in the vicinity of his business. Know what I mean?

Instead, let's look at her shoes:

So far, 2007 looks awfully familiar.

As usual, we can see Courtney Love's bra, and as usual, she can't keep her eyes open long enough for us to check the status of her pupils. Although, technically, this photo was taken on New Year's Eve, so it was still 2006. Ergo, although she rang in 2007 thusly, looking like a zombie whose nose had recently been broken -- seriously, what's up with it? Doesn't it look flatter? And yet knobbier? Did she bang it against the mirror on the table? We hope not -- it's entirely possible she turned the corner later that day and has now spent the remaining 24-plus hours of 2007 looking lovely and awake, playing Scrabble with Frances Bean before settling down to watch Finding Nemo and her new Sound of Music deluxe edition DVD and then singing her daughter to sleep with the "So Long, Farewell" song we so cherish and which Gwen Stefani needs to keep her grubby sample-happy mitts away from on pain of bitch-slap.

We're crossing our fingers. And, the lipstick is an improvement, so maybe there is progress on the horizon.

Since Frances Bean seems to be doing a nice job getting taken care of, either by herself, her relatives, or her mother, I feel like it's kosher to say once again that Courtney Love is such an entertaining mess. I mean, there's always something.

Ignoring the fact that her bra appears to be showing, this particular something -- the implementation of an unexpected hair-hook -- is utterly great. Think of it: If at the end of the night her handlers can't pry her out of that confusing gold lame jacket with fur trim, they can just give up and hang her entire body up in the closet. Maybe they've started keeping her in the wardrobe already, and that explains why her makeup seems a bit stale -- they forgot to chip it off last time and are trying to get at least three full uses out of each spackling before attempting to refresh. So economical!

As always, there are two sides to every story:

On one side: her skin looks good.
On the other: what's with the gigantor belt buckle?

On one side: her body is looking great -- slender, but not skinny
On the other: I don't quite know about those boots.

On one side: I really like her shirt.
On the other: Is it supposed to be all gaping open like that?

On one side: Do we care if it's a little gape-y? She's Courtney Love, and it's very cute otherwise!
On the other: blah blah blah shorts blah blah blah

On one side: Sunglasses at night!
On the other:  Eh, let's just be happy there are no homeless men suckling at her bosum, shall we?

A VOICEMAIL FROM COURTNEY LOVE:

Theriously, what you looking at? There'th nothing new or different about my lipth.  They've alwayth looked like thith. No, really. It'th not collagen! I would never do that to mythelf! Franith Bean lookth up to me. I am a rethponthible mother -- WHO ITH NOT ON DRUGTH -- and I have done NOTHING to mythelf that could ever be conthtrued as plathtic thurgery!

Thank you for your kind attention to thith matter.

By the way, how do you like my kicky little necktie? Ithn't it totally Dreth for Thucceth as reinterpreted for the new millenium? No, Dreth for Thucceth. DRETH FOR THUCCETH! Thop acting like you don't underthand me! I THREAR I WILL THROW THITH MICROPHONE THAND AT YOUR HEAD!

Courtney Love is, like, SOTALLY TOBER.

[Photo: WENN]

She looks good from her waist to her neck -- that blue is gorgeous on her -- but everything else is just a hot mess. The weird-ass, poorly-cuffed, jeans? The overly-pumped-up trout pout? What appears to be Joan Crawford's bed jacket tied around her waist? I'm begining to feel like I'm stuck in the middle of Whatever Happened to Baby Courtney?.

I kind of get the feeling that Courtney Love has no idea how to control her new, larger body, and that parts of it are sort of sloshing around, uncontained, like a Big Gulp spilling all over your gear shift when you take a turn too fast.

Courtney, babe,  you just don't look comfortable. I feel like you're going to be tugging that shirt down all night. Invest in something that fits you a bit better. Or something. Man. Yeah. Honestly?  I don't know how to help you. Nothing there fits right. Your proportions are all off. In fact,  I'm just going to throw up my hands, and congratulate you on how cute Francis Bean is. She looks just like her Dad, doesn't she? In fact, -- oh, hell. I can't keep up the charade: YOUR BOOBS ARE HUGE NOW. I CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT THEM.  I'M WORRIED ONE OR BOTH MIGHT JUST POP OUT OF THAT TOP AND NOT IN A SEXY WAY, IN A "GOD DAMN I KNEW THESE BUTTONS WERE SUSPECT AND THAT'S WHY I TIED THE FRONT OF THIS SHIRT WITH A WEIRD LACEY THINGIE, PLEASE HAND ME A DING DONG BECAUSE NOTHING FITS AND THEY TOOK AWAY MY HEROIN" KIND OF WAY.

Seriously. A little more tailoring from you, a lot less caps lock from me. Is all I'm saying.