High Fugshion

I wonder how Erika here looked in the blue dress by itself.



Tragically we will never know, because she appears to be prouder of her outerwear, which looks like the kind of 3 a.m. craft project that ensues when your boyfriend dumps you but he leaves his expensive camping gear in your hall closet, so in an insomniac trance you turn his outdoor sleeping bag -- strings and all -- into a poncho that you can wear on the couch while you watch Bridget Jones' Diary and marinate in woe. And then, when you feel better, you take it on the town in the hopes that he'll see it and get enraged and you can be all, "What? THAT old thing? My HOT NEW LOVER told me it would make a great jacket," and then you pour his beer over his head because you are not stupid enough to waste your own. All of which is great and all, but the ending would be happier if it didn't involve a girl floating off into the sunset looking like a giant black tent with legs.

We haven't featured Roisin Murphy nearly enough on our site -- I have a strong feeling she'll be a sleeper contender in Fug Madness this year. Because for her, this is fairly tame:

I wish it were a better angle on her hair, which sits in a coil on the top of her head like a tempting fresh breakfast pastry. She and the lank-haired Nicole Richie rubbed elbows at the Diesel show on Tuesday night, at which the celeb section was cordoned off to protect the likes of Kate Bosworth from prying reporters. BORING.

Earlier in the day, we got an earful of both Khloe and Kim Kardashian at Badgley Mischka, during which Kim told a story about Reggie Bush being startled by naked models. I know, it sounded wrong to me too.

Then we saw Eva Longoria Parker's stylist try to restrain her from bad choices at Matthew Williamson, and a relatively blah Rachel Bilson in the front row at Max Azria. Finally, we rounded out the day with: a little sass and spandex at Baby Phat, where Aubrey O'Day covered up slightly more of her boobs and ANTM's Whitney Thompson picked up the slack; and Narciso Rodriguez's show, where Kanye West finally whipped out the sunglasses and brought a woman in red plastic leggings. That Kanye always gives us something we can stare at unabashedly. At a 9 p.m. show after a long day, there is no greater present.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let me put it to you this way: We saw Aubrey O'Day's breasts before we saw her face, and we suspect that's exactly how she wanted it.

[Photo: Splash News]

I suspect the list of Fug Files above this entry aptly describes our inner monologues when we realized that a) we were standing about six inches from Aubrey, and b) her veiny, protesting boobs were trying frantically to blow that fringed joint. Part of her nipple might have succeeded. And it's just that much more hilarious that Aubrey blithely waved about an autographed copy of her Playboy cover, which is Photoshopped so aggressively and tirelessly that the computer on which it was done has probably put in for an indefinite sabbatical. I would like to believe that it's wry self-awareness, but... it's Aubrey O'Day, so draw your own conclusions.

Aubrey attended Justin Timberlake's William Rast show, and we're not sure which was ruder: Her attire, her use of a dog wrangler, or the fact that Paris Hilton texted and/or did her makeup through most of the presentation.  

On an otherwise quiet day, we also spotted some famous faces at Carolina Herrera -- although not all the photographers did. Poor ol' Jessica Stroup was almost ignored, which is a shame, because she didn't look NEARLY as insane as she does on 90210. The girl gets out of the house and away from those head-scarves, and for what? Three cursory pictures and the chance to watch that chick from the MisShapes get all the love? Sigh.

We DID see this man today:

After leaving us hanging on Valentine's Day, Kanye West made the rounds on Sunday, attending (at LEAST) both Preen and Calvin Klein's menswear show before hitting up Y-3 -- where we saw him yukking it up with Milla Jovovich, presumably to distract himself from the fact that Kim Kardashian had on gold metal talons. YES. TALONS.

No such dramatic attire at Miss Sixty; well, not on the guests (like Mischa Barton and Kristen Bell), anyway. The models wore some wacky stuff as usual, and one of them cracked up three times. How can they not, going from thousand-dollar gowns at one show to strapless denim jumpsuits and parachute pants here?

We also got a glimpse of Lucy Liu, wrapped in an Herve Leger bandage dress just like every other actress in attendance at that show Sunday morning, and even amid the wicked photographer melee we could tell that the woman is really freaking attractive. If we hadn't been stopped in our tracks by the discovery of a bar called Burp Castle (the "temple of beers") near our hotel, it would've been our best sighting of the day.

We did not see this man at Fashion Week.

It wasn't for lack of trying; he was supposed to show up at the United Bamboo show, but alas, he left us all hanging. In fact, it was sort of a frustrating day: The Barbie show, the purpose of which we never understood in the first place, ended up being a complete soul-sucking nightmare -- and that was just trying to get inside. And it took 45 minutes to come in from the cold outside Alexander Wang's show; at least our perseverence there was paid back by a sighting of Sarah Jessica Parker yakking it up with A-Dubs. That helped heal our wounds.  What better Valentine's Day gift than some sweet quality time witth Carrie Bradshaw and Countess BobsYourUncle? Maybe vast quantities of gin. But hey, we'll take what we can get.

Fall Fashion Week always begins with the unabashedly cheesy -- and thus delightful and star-studded -- Heart Truth Red Dress Show, in which famous folks don clothes designed by bigwigs and do their best runway saunters. It's a relaxing way to kick off a hellish week, which is why we're crushed we couldn't make it this season thanks to a 14-hour travel odyssey and some high winds in New York that kept us trapped in LAX for too many hours. We missed Lynda Carter -- Wonder Woman, for all you fetuses out there -- and Jennie Garth! AND Tori Spelling! And Cicely Tyson wearing some serious sleeves!

We also missed this:

We had a LOT of e-mails about this dress waiting for us when our day ended, and we agree it's deeply problematic. Not that she is unaccustomed to wearing tiny Mariah-like -- or Mariah-lite, if you will -- skirts, but this one is particularly microscopic. If you stapled it at the crotch, it's instant Betty Boop. In some circles it might even count as underwear.

To be fair to Amanda, though, she's not necessarily wearing this by choice -- Swarovski designed the dress specifically for the Heart Truth show, and although I am sure the companies know in advance what celebrity they're getting (so that, say, Liza Minnelli doesn't show up on the day-of and find out she's wearing a loincloth while Hilary Duff is in a caftan, or something), it's hard to say whether Amanda would've had any input at all in the final product. Clearly whoever did failed to consider that she might be strutting down a slightly raised runway, thereby giving the entire first row, and maybe more, a rather stark Vision of Love.

That same person ALSO probably didn't count on the belt looking like a giant bejewelled pretzel. Then again, maybe the person was hungry, and at the same time assumed nobody who attends Fashion Week would even know what a pretzel LOOKS like to make the comparison.

** Oh, Amanda. Since we wrote this, E! News reported that she did indeed have a hand in creating the dress. Well, Amanda, we tried. We really tried. You're on your own now, kid.

Here's a look at the shows we DID get to catch on Friday:

• It was a starletpalooza at BCBG, and -- SURPRISE -- Solange did not look insane.
• The unexpected belle of the ball at Rag & Bone? Why, Jimmy Fallon, natch.

We'll be posting updates all week, plus regular fuggings -- and rest assured, we'll catch up on what we missed in the last two days, plus whatever comes down the pike this week. But if we're slower than usual, please bear with us -- it's just because we're stuck somewhere trying to flag down a cab and having the worst taxi karma imaginable. We aren't sure what we did to a cab driver in a past life, but it must have been hellacious. Maybe one of them designed Amanda Bynes' dress while he moonlighted at Swarovski, and Friday we simply paid the cosmic price in advance.

LA Fashion Week is kind of sad, as we've mentioned before. It has a lot of issues that need to be resolved, and one of them is the fact that hardly any good celebrities come out to play. And they LIVE HERE. I mean, they're RIGHT DOWN THE STREET getting waxed or something half the time. Like, BAI LING doesn't even come. Instead we get like quasi-quasi-celebrities like Lady Victoria Hervey:

"I know, Heidi! I'm happy about Fashion Week being over too! You should see my blisters! They concern me."

So Heather and I are back in the bosom embrace of GFY HQ here on the West Coast, but we'd be remiss if we didn't share with you, dear reader, all the shenanigans of our last day at Fashion Week (which was Friday. We....running a bit behind right this exact minute.):

A) We got to go to the Project Runway finale! (No spoilers in the piece, but the site's overall discussion of the finale does spoil who showed. That being said, if you're caught up on PR, you won't be spoiled, since they used several decoys, we think). Can we just reiterate that we're pretty sure H. Klu is going to smack J. Lo next time they run into each other at the Beatrice? She couldn't even come up with a better excuse for dropping out of judging than a "foot injury"? Try "food poisoning." Man, I hate it when people don't even think their lies through fully.

B) We spotted Real Housewife of New York Ramona Singer at Badgley Mischa. Oh my god, dudes, if I were on that show, they would already have a reel of me telling her to shut up. She talked so loudly throughout the show, we could hear her from several rows away.

C) And finally, we wrap up the week. Includes shots of dudes dressed like Janice Dickinson and...well, really pulling it off.

Thanks for taking the Fashion Week journey with us, everyone! We're now finally officially back to your regularly scheduled fuggings.

How sad am I that security wouldn't let us get anywhere near the front rows at Calvin Klein? For that reason I missed the sassy anecdote that I'm SURE should accompany this photo of Lauren Hutton:



I hope she's saying, "What the hell is with these jumpsuit cuffs? Am I on death row? I DON'T THINK SO."

-- Also at Thursday's Calvin Klein show: Miss Tyra totally stole all the thunder and a paparazzo yelled at Rachel Zoe. I never thought I'd feel bad for her, but lo and behold, my heart grew three sizes that day.

-- We were very concerned that Anna Wintour's longtime boyfriend's daughter might go into labor in the middle of the Vera Wang show. That would make one hell of a review: "So good, my water broke!" Also, does that make Anna a step-grandmother of sorts? I'm sure the very thought gives her the vapors.

-- At Phi, Emmy Rossum wore dominatrix shoes. Also, in typing up that story, I kept mistyping the word "public" as "pubic," and then I would notice the typo and go in to fix it and type "pubic" AGAIN. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

-- Cynthia Rowley tried to kill everyone at her show. She may not have REALIZED that's what was going on, but seriously, anyone who wasn't Julia Stiles or Tatum O'Neal put his or her life on the line just trying to get into a seat.

-- Diane Kruger didn't bring Pacey to Tommy Hilfiger. HOW DARE SHE DO THAT TO US?

Let's see....what happened yesterday? We did not end up stuck in an elevator with Anna Wintour. (If this happens, I plan to talk to her about tennis.) We did not talk our ways into a cameo on Gossip Girl (I want to play the crafty blogger who makes out with Chuck as a way to help him make Blair jealous).  We did not trip out of our high heels and land in the laps of any luminaries. However, we did see this:


"Hee hee! Tell me again how pretty I am, Mr. de la Renta. TELL ME!" If you can only have one celeb at a show, it might as well be Ms Lo.

Also included with purchase:

Emmy Rossum + Leighton Meester = I don't know how to feel.

It turns out that Lauren Conrad is lovely in person and Lo looks like she's about to tell you to f' off.  And, in fact, probably wants to, at least in my case.

Blake Lively was very pretty at Michael Kors, but could she outshine BETTE FREAKING MIDLER? What do you think?

Oh, Amy Lee. Your name rhymes with Anna Sui. And how crazy you be.