Fug or Fab

Lots of people liked the Hilary Swank navy-blue backless gown from the 2005 Oscars; I thought it made her head look like it was on backwards. Nevertheless, it's an indelible image from awards season, so if you're going to go high-neck, low-back, you'd better do it ... well, better.

First up on that score: Kate Hudson.

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Tight, high-cut, yet uncomfortably revealing, like a gymnast's leotard but with a skirt...

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... and in the back, open and plunging. It's not as night-and-day as Swank's because the front is less swaddled and prudish, but it's so appallingly unflattering that I can't get on board the S.S. K-Hud today.

Next up is Castle's Stana Katic:
It truly is time for that Ghostbusters III movie they keep threatening to make. I'm serious: we're getting zeitgeisty up in here. First, Ghostbusters star Sigourney Weaver almost pulled out Fug Nation's Best Dressed at the Globes (and would have, I think, if Amanda Palmer had more disorganized fans). Then, just this other day I had this whole conversation about whether or not Ray Parker, Jr -- composer of the Ghostbusters theme song -- was dead. (He's not. STAY ALIVE RAY.) And now Anna Paquin, like Lily Cole before her, wears a dress from what I'm privately calling Alexander McQueen's Zuul Collection:

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I actually originally thought it was the same dress, but of course, now that I've looked at them both, it is not. It just has a similar Gozar The Gozerian aura to it. Don't misunderstand me. While some people would think that comparing the pattern on a dress to an ancient, evil, shape-shifting demon is an insult, I actually like this. I will admit that I'm not 100% sure if I think it's fancy enough for the event. Even though I do kind of like the idea of treating the SAGs -- or, as I call them, "Hollywood's Most Self-Congratulatory Awards Show," which is saying A LOT -- as a sort of more casual event. Okay, I've talked myself into it: THUMBS UP.
 
January 22, 2010

Fug or Fab: Camilla Belle

This photo made me SO CURIOUS to see the front of Camilla Belle's dress. 

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All that volume could be JUST crazy enough to work, like DJ Hero, or air travel, or Better Off Ted. Let's render a verdict by squizzing at the front.
Emily Blunt looks substantially happier here than she did after she lost her category to Sandra Bullock.

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It's kind of refreshing when people go ahead and look disappointed, since you KNOW none of those people -- save perhaps a rare few -- are actually satisfied merely with being nominated. They want to WIN. And that ought to be okay. Still, at least Emily enjoyed herself for a moment, and why wouldn't she? Her fiance is super cute, and she's so pretty, and this dress is... well, hmm. When I started writing this post, I thought it was a Well Played, but then the more I looked at this, the more I thought I saw the structure and boning of the dress under there -- seams that I don't want to be able to see, because it takes me out of the fantasy. And then I noticed that the bottom portion resembles the old pink tutu we kept in the Dress-Up Drawer when I was four, and which I often wore on my head, because I put everything on my head at least once. Back then, not now. As far as you know. Four-year old Heather would've loved putting this on her head. But do the component parts add up to a fantastic dress? My gut said yes at first, and... you know, I think I'm still leaning toward feelings of fondness as opposed to being fugppalled. However, I'd like to hear from you. 

We all saw what The Sev wore to accept her much-deserved Golden Globe (and we all watched her try to choke back murderous rage when the dude helping her on-stage accidentally stepped on it and ripped it); but what did she don for the rest of the weekend's events? 

I'm so glad you asked. There appears to have been a theme: her underclothes.

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I wish this had a solid slip under it, because that's actually not a terrible little cocktail dress. But y'all know I am not a fan of the whole "if a shirt covers my boobs, and a bra covers my boobs, than by the transitive property, a bra is a shirt" form of rationalization. Oh, sure, it's cunning, but it's also a dangerous slippery slope that leads straight to the intersection of Amy Winehouse Avenue with Lady Gaga Boulevard. 

After the Globes, as a lot of actresses do in the hope that their gowns won't get trampled (or in Chloe's case, trampled again), she changed from her satin drapes into this:
Rhona Mitra here always seemed like a bit of a pill to me. I once saw her at a coffee shop in Venice and she was CRANKY, so that has clouded my judgment. Of course, it's possible that she had just gotten a parking ticket or had cramps or remembered that her last major film role was playing the poor man's Kate Beckinsale in the most recent Underworld movie, and any of those things could make anyone crabby. Her expression here doesn't really help though:

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Cheer up, babe! It can't be that bad! Look at all the room you've got in that dress for snacks. Anything that doesn't require Spanx on the night of an awards show is cause for celebration as far as I'm concerned. On the other hand, there's something about this that makes me:
  1. concerned the hem is going to get caught around her feet, causing her to faceplant into the champagne fountain;
  2. concerned that the back is deeply, deeply unflattering to her bum
  3. concerned that the front is actually even kind of unflattering to her front.
On the other hand, the blush tone is very pretty on her, and... honestly, her cranky expression is giving me hives, so I'm just going to turn it over to you, the experts:


When I told Heather I was writing about this dress, she was unsurprised. "The neck ruffle!" she said. It's true: I LOVE a neck ruffle. And ergo, I rather love this:

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I'm not entirely sure I am enamored of the color. It doesn't QUITE wash her out, but it also reminds me both of figure-skating costumes, and bridesmaids' gowns. Or perhaps, therefore, a figure-skating routine about being a bridesmaid, set to Pachelbel's Canon and skated in dyed-to-match boots and a head wreath. (Note to self: email Johnny Weir about this idea.) Regardless, I think I'm going to give Jessica Lowndes a hearty thumbs up.

So, we got lots of emails about Kate Hudson here, and let me tell you, they really ran the gamut: some of you thought she looked great, some of you thought she looked like a dippy bride, many of you wondered how she managed not to get wrinkled (me too), and one of you wanted to know why she kept making faces on the red carpet that made her look like Becki Newton as Amanda at her goofiest (none of which I pulled, but she REALLY did. Becky Newton is adorable, but Kate's mugging was weird, and I'd never noticed the resemblance before).

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Me? I see the bridal comparison, but I actually think it's at least structurally interesting, which I appreciate in general. I wish we could have seen it with the train down, but it was too wet for that to happen, so I guess we're just going to have to imagine it. Actually, I think the rain did Hudson a favor, as far as that goes, because with a train this thing would really have made her look one bouquet short of a wedding gown. You'd think she'd want to do anything to avoid reminding us that she was in Bride Wars this year, right? Man, that thing was BAD. Heather and I watched part of it the other night and even skipping like half an hour in the middle to watch Better Off Ted, we managed to get the gist. The crappy, hacky, sexist, crazy gist. Seriously, don't even get me started. Although I can't resist asking why there were so many MONTAGES in that thing? Like, lovingly cut montages of Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway laughing over dinners and running through the rain and shopping for flowers together, all lit with this very romantic half-light. I really hoped we were heading toward an ending wherein they realized they were actually in love with each other but no such luck. REGARDLESS: now I'm all cranky thinking about how terrible that movie was, so I'm turning against the dress. You best step in.

Aw, the Kidman.

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Let us first give thanks for the continued glory of the darker red hair. It's AMAZING how much better she looks with the Moulin Rouge-era dark red locks, just like La Kidman of old, and it makes me very happy and also prompts me, sometimes, to burst into my imitation of the Duke from said film, which amuses only me. But that's okay, since I'm the only person here! Anyway, with that out of the way....let's yap about the dress. Honestly, I find it a bit of a snore, but that may be because I have sheets on my bed right now that are a very similar champagne color and looking at it provokes in me the Pavlovian response that I need a nap immediately.

As the only actress of any particular skill in Twilight and its progeny flick(s) -- seriously, they ought to be kicking themselves for not giving her Ashley Greene's much larger part -- I'm very happy that Anna Kendrick is enjoying recognition for her actual gifts, and not just for being able to stare moodily at a really cold dude with stale bedhead. And BIG ups to her for handling with delicacy that heinous moment on E! when Giuliana thought it'd be adorable to use her to get to George Clooney, spent a full 30 seconds screaming George's name only to be ignored, then yelled at George's ladyfriend, "Elisabetta, I'm ITALIAN," all while Anna stood there and smiled and acted like this wasn't a) rude, b) embarrassing for Giuliana, and c) tragic. 

What a ride. It also must be heady to go from zero to Marchesa in almost no time at all.

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This particular Marchesa, though, might be eating her alive. It's a pretty concept for a dress, but I don't care for the two-toned fabric happening around her midriff -- it makes the whole thing seem like it's sagging on her a little -- and... bah. I don't know. I prefer having a quantifiable instinct, but alas, sometimes my reactions don't come with nifty explanations. Some days, I just want to write, "Meh," and then hit "Publish." I can't put my finger on why I don't adore this, but I don't. Marchesa is usually so reliable in terms of interestingly built and achingly pretty gowns; every time I gaze at this, though, I feel like I'm looking at someone's very delicate holiday tree skirt.

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