Emmy Awards

I feel like Patricia Arquette is constantly making me groan, "Ooooh... so close." For instance, she's a lovely woman who rocks her healthy, normal figure, but then she'll show up somewhere in a tight satin sheath that is hard for anybody to wear without accentuating the negatives.

Or, she'll throw a red sash around her waist and let it hang there limply, helping no one and doing nothing but cup her stomach:

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

If she'd worn this hair with the other dress, we might've had a winner. But instead she wore the horrible coif with the nice frock, and the sleeker 'do with this satin atrocity from the J.Lo/Anjelica Huston School of Fug. She also can't get her straps to behave -- the one on the left up there is staying put when it shouldn't, while her Emmy ceremony dress strap dropped clean off in the middle of her acceptance speech. The woman can't win.

Well, except for the Emmy.  And her slowly debloating life partner. But her closet is a giant rack of suck.

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

Oh, honey. Even Dorothy herself would have surrended that old thing. So unless you are attending a theme party that is under the mistaken impression that the Emmy Awards are an homage to the unsung courage and dedication of Auntie Em herself, then you should probably deep-six the pumps, the homemade capris, and the frock before somebody throws you over a picnic table and serves a buffet of sanwiches and potato salad all over your torso.

Joely Richardson is all, "I am standing next to her ALL NIGHT.  I look FANTASTIC." 

Ever since her show Life & Style got cancelled, Cynthia Garrett has apparently been living life in the style of a homeless hippie-cowgirl:

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

I always suspected that working with Jules Asner day in, day out, would drive a person into a state of unbrushed boho insanity. It's okay, Cynthia. We know. We don't understand what Steven Soderbergh sees in her, either -- or, well, we do, but we just don't understand how he lives with himself during those moments when they're forced to have a conversation. We're here for you, Cyn. You're free now -- it'll get better, we promise. Step away from the hat and don't let the fringe suck you into its poisonous lair.

Okay, "Tess Smith," if indeed that is your name. I know you're doing this for publicity, and that I'm playing right into your grubby, grasping hands, but I can't ignore you because you have made that impossible.

Apparently, you had such success looking like a desperate head-case last year that, in 2005, you've taken the shredded look just far enough to make it clear precisely how Brazilian your wax job is. You look like an extra who wandered, drunk and clueless, off the set of a porno called Julius Pleaser: Eh tu, Bootay?

Look, I'm sure you're a sunny person. And I know some people will applaud your moxie and invite you into all the cool after-parties, because you are essentially naked, and all the people who wish Teri Hatcher would wear that are going to stare at you instead, as she and the other Desperate Housewives at least have enough combined modica of class that they don't run around letting their labia flap in the breeze.

But at the end of the day, when everyone wipes the powder -- legal and otherwise -- off their faces and goes home to take a shower and gulp Aleve with their hair-of-the-dog raspberry mojitos, you'll just be remembered as that sad, embarrassing Tinseltown cliche who makes Pamela Anderson look like the very image of restraint, taste, and elegance. Is that really the label you want? Really?

Heidi Klum's pregnancy wasn't a fashion statement, so hopefully other people will stop using it as the green light to dress as if they're expecting.

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

America's Next Top Drapery winner Naima clearly needs a refresher course from Miss Janice Dickinson about posing. But the clothes aren't helping -- she looks straight out of Sense and Sensibility, wherein everyone is clad in garments that are tailored to be scandal-ready. Surely somebody could have helped her choose a dress that doesn't give stomach where no stomach exists.

Sometimes it's not the clothes that fug up the Peldon -- it's what's beneath them.

In this case, La Peldon seems to have parlayed her D-list status into getting a D-list tan, one as orange, uneven, and blotchy as a pubescent Oompa-Loompa.

Doesn't it kind of look like her mismatched, normal-colored face has been Photoshopped onto another body? Like someone's been having a little pictoral fun with our Courtney -- perhaps even Courtney herself, trying to cover up that she actually wore something far more hideous to this Emmy pre-party?

But no -- no chicanery here, except on the part of the sunscreen/tanning salon/bloated Davis brother who snapped on the protective gloves and slobberingly rubbed in her self-tanner. This is truly La Peldon in all her heinous Burnt Marmalade glory, apparently so greedy for attention that she's even trying to redefine the term "Brown Peldon" so that it no longer applies to her sister.

Oh, Patricia Arquette.

What is with the hair? It's like Marie Antoinette by way of Rosie the Riveter. What are you hiding in there? The latest Medium script? State secrets? Snacks for later? [Not a bad idea when the show is nine and a half hours long.]

Just don't.

Mary McCormack is very, very confused. She seriously was pretty sure when the limo pulled up that she was being ferried to her senior prom, circa 1984:

Hey everybody! Where's the punchbowl?

On a night when many of the Emmy attendees were frustratingly well-dressed, thank God we can still turn to Crazy Macy Gray:

It doesn't fit! The shoes don't match! The dress itself may, in fact, be composed entirely of a cast-off set of drawing room curtains from the set of Scarlett: The Sequel to Gone With the Wind, starring Timothy Dalton! It's certainly totally flammable. And for that, Macy Gray, we the Fug Girls salute you. Anyone who shows up to an awards show looking both baked and bake-able is okay by us.

"Yeah? So I ate some cookies. A whole lot of cookies. Wanna make something of it, bitch? Want to come over here so I can REARRANGE YOUR FACE? Huh? I didn't THINK SO.

Yeah, this IS my bitchface, BITCHES. I'm making a comeback, and it's BITCHY. I'm like the fat Shannen Doherty. I will MESS YOU UP. MESS YOU UP!

You think I look like a what? A pumpkin? Some kind of squash, is that what you said? I will squash YOU. Yeah, I'm talking to you, skinny girl with the pigtails. Aren't you the kid that took those pictures of me eating a Double Double in my car? It was PROTEIN STYLE, you know. I don't know why you people DIDN'T MENTION THAT.

For your information, I wore this dress to the Renaissance Faire last year and got A LOT of compliments on it, so why don't you just SHUT YOUR FAT FACES! Yeah, I said FAT. Like my new show on Showtime, Fat Actress, please watch it."