Golden Globes

So, every February Fashion Week, the first show Heather and I go to is usually in honor of The Heart Truth, which is the national health department's campaign to raise awareness about heart disease in women -- a very worthy cause, and they're also sponsored by Diet Coke, so you know we approve. Anyway, it's basically a celebrity fashion show featuring red dresses designed by big-name designers and although it's so much cornier than your usual runway extravaganza, it's fun for that very reason. It's a relaxing first foray into the tents, allowing us to practice our "I'M SO VERY BORED DELIGHT ME NOW" faces that you're contractually obligated to wear at all fashion shows, even if inside you are secretly squealing about how much fun you're having, which I always am because...hello, Fashion Week is entertaining. ANYWAY, I swear to God, THIS is exactly the sort of thing we see at said show:

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It's SO. AGRESSIVELY. RED. And it has a train. A huge train. A huge, pouffy train. (I am tempted, in the spirit of corniness, to note that the rain stays mainly on her train, but that loses something without my also being about to specify something about the location of said rain, and nothing in the 310 rhymes.) I'd also like to note that my comments about this outfit were so much wittier when I thought she was Natalie Morales, who once, at said Heart Truth show, accidentally flashed Laura Bush her bare ass. There was a lot of my snarking about how you'd think she'd have learned her lesson about red dresses etc etc etc etc. But they are not the same person. And having realized that, I have run out of things to say about this. Other than the fact that if she decided to show up at Bryant Park bright and early on the first day of Fashion Week, and she brings this, SHE'S GOING ON STAGE.  

Apparently, Jenna Fischer's ex-husband is named James Gunn. If I'd been in that marriage, I'd probably have gotten divorced, too, because I would've run around calling him Jim Gunn and then begging him to ask me to "gather 'round" so that he can tell me to "make it work." Except that there's probably some kind of copyright on those terms so we'd have had to fill in with "group together" and "construct it successfully," which would've been almost as dissatisfying as my annoying shenanigans with his name. So it's a good thing Jim -- er, James -- Gunn and I never got married, is what I'm saying.

That's neither here nor there, except in the sense that Jenna did not make THIS work:

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I like the easygoing idea of this, but it's kind of the wicked stepsister of that gorgeous gold-and-white Chanel worn by Jennifer Aniston to the 2004 Emmys, back when times were simpler and we knew where Conan and Jay stood and she was married to Brad Pitt. Jenna's blocky version cuts her into three pieces. And while being split into thirds is marvelous for Neapolitan ice cream, or sandwiches, or hockey games, I don't think it works so well for people.
This certainly fits J.Gar like a glove. It's stunning on her.

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But she's SO extra super skinny all of a sudden, it vexes me -- she snapped back down to Alias levels so quickly that it has me concerned she tried one of those disordered weight-loss cleanses. I hope that's not the case. I love her. I like to imagine her doing it the healthy way, and not sitting around her house drinking lemon juice and cayenne, or the drippings from squished maple leaves, barking at the wall and hallucinating that it's Ben.

Speaking of, let's address the thing in the room that really IS an elephant: Where was Ben? Was he working? I'm sure it was something innocuous, but it kind of hits on a common annoyance I have with them, and that is: Why are you almost never willing to be seen together in public? I get that if you're in a relationship in Hollywood, sometimes you want to keep it off the red carpet, but you know what? They have two kids. They're married. That cat is out of the bag. In fact, that cat is so far out of the bag that it would never be able to find the bag again. So why not just GO TO STUFF TOGETHER SOMETIMES? Maybe he hates it, I don't know. But it's the Globes, dude. His bromantical lifemate Matt Damon was nominated. His exes, Gwynnie and J.Lo, were NOT there (probably at home doing yoga inside a bath filled with acai berry juice and organic battery acid, and writing songs about her favorite triathlon sneakers, respectively). So get a babysitter and take your hot wife's hand and smile. I mean, if you can't bear to do that, EVER -- and they really never do -- then WTF? Why are you married? Suck it up and hang out, man.

But, you know, J.Gar looks hot. So that's a win. If she could send me her shoulder exercise regimen, I'd really appreciate it. Because obviously that's all that's standing between me and this dress. Yep. It's the shoulders. Uh-huh.

I will give Drew Barrymore this: She had a gay old time, Flintstones-style, at the Golden Globes.

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And that was BEFORE she won. As was this:

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But let's face it, getting bussed by Intern George is the biggest victory of all. Sure, she'll have a statuette with her name on it that she can look at, and cuddle, and use as a doorstop, and throw at intruders. The Scent of a Fug Intern on her skin after the sweet caress of his beard hairs, though? It's forever.

However, I hope whatever's sprouting from her dress isn't catching, or else we'll have to tell him to take a few days off work so as not to infect us with a raging case of Anemoneitis. Let's take a proper look:


This is a scrolldown, for me. Or as the French might say, le scrolldown.

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The green color is striking, and I like the architecture of the top. But although I am sure that is a very expensive and carefully sewn lace detail over her upper thigh, it looks like Marion's dress split in the limo and we're getting an illicit peek at her support hose. Maybe someone added it because the original frock was slit Up To There and Marion wisely decided her Cotillard risked making an appearance. But when I look at your dress and think, "Oh, Marion, Spanx a lot for giving me something to write about," things have gone awry.

There's a pleasing origami feel to Maggie's dress here.

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Unfortunately, it's origami someone performed with the table linens at the Albuquerque La Quinta Inn, which totally screwed the wedding reception they were supposed to have in Conference Room #2.

But I have to say, fabric aside, I like this better in this photo than I did live on the red carpet -- at the time, her face looked washed-out and the dress didn't look that great in motion, and I wasn't sure about the hair... the whole thing felt like a blob of vanilla pudding on white bread with mayonnaise. But I see the detail in a slightly different light now and it's prettier than I remember.

I wonder if I'd like this better if it cut off at the knee, and if the rest of Maggie's styling -- like her head -- didn't seem like an afterthought. I also thought briefly about if the base dress was one color and the overlay detail was in a contrasting hue, but maybe that's too much. Come play designer in the comments.
I'm very much looking forward to the day An Education comes out on DVD, so that I can Netflix it, as I hear Carey Mulligan is delightful in it. In that sense, the movie is the opposite of this dress.

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The navy? Love it. The black? Maybe! But the bodice is knocking her goods off the top shelf and onto the bottom one where they put all the off-brand stuff that's selling for half as much. And she deserves better. She ought to be hanging out with the Crispix and not the Crispy Hexa-Grains; the Cheerios, and not the Savory Wheat Rings; the Honey Smacks, and not the Sticky-Sweet Ovoid Blobs Approved By Frogs.

I almost want to give it a second chance, so that it can fix its creative problems and come back strong -- kind of like Heroes, except that instead of coming back bloated and strange and terrible with only Jack Coleman as its bright spot, this would come back roaring (and possibly also with Jack Coleman, depending on what he's doing -- I mean, you never know how bored he'll be once Heroes inevitably gets put out of its misery). Maybe someone should buy her a really awesome strapless bra and Carey should wear this again to the Oscars. It would be unprecedented. Probably for good reason, but whatever. We bloggers need something new to dish about and to poll about, and that would be it. Get on it, Carey.
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PATRICIA ARQUETTE: Why do we even come to these things?

THOMAS JANE: Well, I'm NOMINATED, Patty. God. Don't you EVER listen to me? But I hear you: We do always look so miserable.

PATRICIA: And you're wearing brown shoes with a black suit. A terrible black suit. With a black bow tie. And a black shirt. Ridiculous.

THOMAS: Me? ME ridiculous? Have you SEEN YOU, Patricia? Have you? HAVE YOU LOOKED IN A MIRROR?

PATRICIA: God. Enough histrionics. I think wearing something that artfully conceals rain, thanks to its hacky Chico's-Kind-of-Day pattern, last seen on a smart little coat modeled by Michael Phelps's mother, is kind of brilliant, ACTUALLY.

THOMAS: That Phelps reference is like two years too old.

PATRICIA: Shut up. I'm having a relapse of Olympic fever, brought on by standing out in the rain. Rain that is apparently so MAGICAL that it requires YOU to wear your SUNGLASSES.

THOMAS: Yeah, well, your make-up appears to have washed off.

PATRICIA: You...shoot. I'm out of insults. I blew my wad by enumerating all the flaws with your outfit in one fell swoop.

THOMAS: Rookie mistake, kid.

PATRICIA: Let's go find the bar.

In the midst of GOLDEN GLOBE MANIA, please don't forget to check out our slide show of red carpet hits and misses over at NY Mag.com. I'm SURE you can't guess who we're talking about here:

"The skirt's bizarre length makes her look wicked stumpy, like this whole time she's been secretly walking around with foreshortened limbs. Limbs which, last night, just happened to end in shoes originally chosen to go with an entirely different outfit. We hate to say it, because she does look great from the waist up, but Tina totally Lemoned this one."

IT'S A MYSTERY! (Sorry, Tina. We love you!) Click through and check it out! Also, if you missed the red carpet yesterday, we live-blogged E!'s extravaganza, so grab some Cheetos and pretend it's still Sunday.
The rumor mill claims, often, that Lauren Graham is at best a tad humorless in real life, and at worst not a very nice person (edited to add: THRILLED to say we've had several people write in to refute this on all counts, so hooray). I choose to ignore them until she shanks someone dear to my heart, because I think she's so pretty and talented and the blue eyes with the dark hair and fair skin are very striking. But this leaves me... if not cold, then for sure on ice that's been melting for a while.

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Y'all know how I feel about brightly colored satin -- I think the sheen of the fabric turns interesting hues into Tweetown. This reminds me of these tiny little pink car-sickness pills called Joy Rides that I took when I was six and we went on long car trips, and which I once regurgitated all over my Cabbage Patch Kid. So unfortunately for Lauren, all I can see here is the permanent cotton-candy-colored freckle my stomach contents left on Karolina's leg.

My instinct is, I'd like to see this in a totally different fabric, and then after that possibly a different color. It also might be cute cocktail-length, but for me, the fantasy fabric-swap is key. What would you do? Lay it on me in the comments, after you rock the vote.

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