Fug The Cover

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It must be really kind of hard to be Miley Cyrus: you pose in a sheet, and people FREAK OUT. You send sort-of-but-not-really provocative camera phone pics to your boyfriend, and people FREAK OUT. You make kind of snide remarks about said boyfriend's new girlfriend and people FREAK OUT. But who is there to freak out when Seventeen magazine Photoshops you until your head appears to be floating over someone else's body -- someone whose elbows have been surgically attached to her dress? I AM. I have commenced FREAKING OUT for you, Miley. You can thank me later.
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I can't wait to get this issue in the mail, if only because "Beverly Hills Derms Battle for Supremacy" sounds hilarious, almost like a parody of a W article, and I've been trying to lose a couple of ice-cream-sandwiches- and-hot-dog-induced summertime pounds so that my jeans fit right again and the idea of a $1,000 skin cream is enough to totally put me off my feed! Does that skin cream also wash my dishes and manage my mutual funds? Because otherwise, I imagine that even the richest, most frivolous woman might look at that price tag and think, "screw that. I'm sticking with La Mer and dropping the other $800 on shoes." While, obviously, the rest of us -- not W's target demographic -- would look at that price tag and think, "or I could pay my bills, you assholes." I am dying to see what Glossed Over says about this issue, because I am scared I might not have the intestinal fortitude to actually read it, seeing as just the cover is getting me all worked up. Also working me up: the idea that they've got an interview with Tilda Swinton in here and still decided to put Kate Hudson on the cover in disguise as an 80s robot car-hop, programmed to stab you to death with the straw from your malted. If Tilda Swinton were on the cover styled thusly, we'd all be like, "Oh, TILDA. You are a kooky, artsy delight! Tell me more about your unconventional romances! You please me!" As it is, my reaction is more along the lines of, "Kate Hudson, you poseur. Nice try." Kate Hudson's entire career is built on being the opposite of being edgy and while in general I appreciate taking things in a new direction, this is like the magazine cover equivalent of that time Denise Richards played a nuclear physicist: hilarious, annoying, and a valiant attempt to ask the public to suspend entirely too much disbelief. Baby steps, Kate. Try dark nail polish first. Then maybe one day we'll be able to look at you all tarted up like a programmed killer escaped from an undiscovered Robert Palmer video and not giggle at you.
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I have some questions. One: why does Mischa Barton keep landing covers? She isn't doing ANYTHING INTERESTING. In fact, I think one of her most recent films went straight to DVD. I'd argue that she's never been more irrelevant than she is right now. And I find it hard to believe that -- for their 20th anniversary issue -- Marie Claire couldn't rustle up someone more compelling, someone more current, someone with something to promote for their cover. Keira Knightley too busy calling Sienna Miller and warning her that frolicking naked with a married guy is kind of bad PR? Emma Watson too busy filming Half Blood Prince? Helen Mirren  too busy parading around being awesome? Fine. But this brings us to question number two: when Mischa Barton lands a cover despite having nothing of interest to bring to the table whatsoever other than her pretty face, why does she go and do that to her pretty face? She looks like she just Hoovered through a tray of bad seafood. And despite the cover's instructions, that is a party for no one.
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In the interest of starting on a positive note, I must admit that if Aussie magazine Shop 'Til You Drop were available here in the United States, I would totally be a subscriber. I am all about reading articles about fabulous bargains and what beauty editors are actually doing at home, and it goes without saying that I enjoy reading about the secrets of A List Hair (I suspect that in many cases, secret number one is: crazy expensive extensions). And if I were a subscriber, I can guarantee you that on the day I toddled downstairs to get my mail and pulled this out of the box, I would have said aloud to no one, "what is up with Rachel Bilson?" Because -- while I love me some Bilson and think she almost always looks adorable -- she truly could not look more perplexed here. Is the ginormo corset-belt impacting her ability to breath? Does she really hate that hat? Does she just want to get this over with and go home? Because that's how it looks.

On the other hand, I like her skirt. So she's got that going for her.
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We have gotten A LOT of emails about this cover, to the point that I expected to see Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson here with tentacles coming out of her hair and a handlebar mustache. And while this is certainly not that bad, she does seem to have a rollicking case of Dead Eyes and Forehead Photoshoppery, which is a serious and very real crime. (In fairness, she does look very pretty inside on the inside of the magazine. This might also be a good time to point out that I covet her hair. ) So what say you?
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So, Twilight is really, really popular, right? If you haven't read it, I guarantee that someone you know has, and is probably obsessed with it. I am not personally a huge fan for a variety of reasons, which I won't get into because I don't need Twilight fans after my ass (okay: basically I think a lot of the plot points which are presented as being Super Romantic are actually creepy and stalkery and, listen, you just should not be okay with it if you find out that this dude you're seeing has been sneaking into your house unbeknownst to you and watching you sleep all night, every night, even if it's under the guise of "protecting you" or something because for one thing, if you need protection, don't you have a right to know that from the get-go instead of being treated like someone from a 1940s three-hankie weeper where the doctor and Bette Davis's husband, like, make the executive decision not to tell the little lady that she's got a giant brain tumor? ....I'll stop there. Don't email me! I know tons of people love it. My very own sister is obsessed with it. I get it. I read all the Anne Rice Lestat books. I've BEEN THERE.)

Anyhoodle, the book stresses over and over and over and over and over again that Cedric Diggory's character up there is like the Most Beautiful, Handsome, Glorious, Sparkly (yes, he literally sparkles) Boy Alive -- or, you know, Undead, since he's a vampire and all. Whereas, I feel like THIS particular version of Edward....would have a hard time passing as a high school student. As he looks like a zombie. Not even a hot zombie. A zombie in need of a good hot oil treatment. No matter what issues I have with the book, the dude is supposed to be HOT. All vampires are hot. It's like a rule of pop culture. Have we learned NOTHING from Buffy? (Well, considering that she'd tell this poor sap to put away the chest pubes, make a joke about his lipstick and stake his ass instead of swooning with some produce, I guess not.) Oh, Entertainment Weekly. First, your cruddy re-design and now this. What am I going to do with you?
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Wow. This is....really bad.  Really really awkward and bad. While the contents of Tatler seem kind of interesting -- I totally want to read about the Brit Beauty Who Tamed a Hollywood Mogul (I presume they're talking about Georgina Chapman/Harvey Weinstein), and about superbrats and power partygoers, to the extent that I might actually pop out and pick this issue up -- the COVER is an abomination upon the world. Not to get too dramatic about it or anything. I mean, I'm thrilled Maggie G is in the new Batman -- every time Katie Holmes showed up in Batman Begins, I thought to myself, "OH RIGHT. Katie Holmes is in this movie" -- but I thought it was pretty common knowledge that she wasn't playing the Joker. Judging from the heinous make-up job here, though, the Tatler Cover Crew did not get that particular memo. Bad form, folks. Bad form indeed.

Good morning Upper East Siders,

Just down grabbing a latte and spied a certain blonde bombshell looking, shall we say, less than on the cover of a magazine you probably stopped reading in seventh grade. Even the haters -- and S has a few -- have to admit that she's irritatingly gorgeous in person, like an certain Marc Jacobs bag I've been visiting at Barney's. The question is, then, who over at Hearst has it in for our golden girl? She couldn't possibly look this bad without serious technical intervention. Is it possible that one of the magazine's newest interns (let's call her V), who has made it her mission this summer to make life hard for S as possible, called in a certain favor with a publishing exec who will never forget an afternoon spent with V in the coat closet of a particularly boring Hamptons pool party? You know I'll never tell.

xoxo

Gossip Girl
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God. I wish Cosmo would devote more editorial space to sex. I am SURE they're leaving something out. They're got "Why Men Cheat in August," but I need to know why men cheat in July and September as well.  I will apparently be "shocked...and intrigued" by how dirty his mind is, but will no one tell me how dirty his apartment is?! And, most egregiously, while apparently page 200 will teach me a trick for SEXY EYES (which I suspect are probably the close cousin to CRAZY EYES), where is the article on SEXY HAIR? I guess, judging from ScarJo's hair in this photo, sexy hair has been supplanted by hair that looks like you accidentally put too much product into and then went to the gym.

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Well, well, well. Would you look at that? For the first time in approximately 12,000 years, I don't hate the Harper's Bazaar cover. I still hate the way they lay out the copy (for some reason, that font and layout makes it seem like there's no SUBSTANCE to the magazine at all, like it's a fake rag you'd see in the background of some fluffy rom-com where Reese Witherspoon is the editor-in-chief of a bridal magazine but -- gasp! -- can't find a man herself ), and the sort of weird boob-sling/armpit-draping is....weird, but she looks like herself. She doesn't appear to have a wasting disease or any extra limbs. She is the color she is supposed to be and not orange like a traffic cone. Her head does not appear to be Photoshopped on. Those are probably her own teeth. She's not wearing chain mail, or hot pants, or knee-socks over her ears. There are no cloying quotes floating around her head, like "Life is so simple now! Thanks to my staff of twelve," or "I know now that I can do anything! Because I have all the advantages and money in the world." She just looks relaxed, and pretty. I'd like to buy some of that.

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