High Fugshion

Ever wondered what a bottle of Pepto Bismol would look like if it had even less subtlety, and mated with an insect of some kind?

Are you an olden-days-style romantic? Are you looking for the kind of passion a girl only feels on her deathbed? And are you aching for pledges of eternal love from a devoted hottie, without the matching chronic wasting disease?

Then this look, fresh from the face of a model at Fashion Week, is tailor-made for you. It's called Consumption:

The first step is ringing the eyes with the kinds of pinks and beiges that give them an overtired, sickly, naturally red-rimmed appearance -- as if they've been rubbed or delicately wept into chapped, puffy splendor. The effect will make your irises look ever-so-slightly fevered, which is the second crucial element. Thirdly, use your natural oils in conjunction with iridescent makeup to achieve a perfectly moist sheen on your face, the better to replicate the cold, cold sweat of impending death. And the final step: With a coy smile on your face that hints at the pain through which you're soldiering, pull your hair off your face -- but leave a few escaped tendrils that will appear to have burst forth during a fainting spell.

Voila! You too can be consumptive! Someone will sweep you into his or her arms in no time and cradle you with tender professions of ceaseless devotion as he/she waits for you to expire.

I have some issues with Jennifer Jason Leigh. Sometimes, I think she's an extremely good actress, but most of the time, especially now, she seems too busy "Acting" to actually act. Kind of like Sean Penn. Call it the Curse of Ridgemont High.

I also have some issues with the outfit she wore to the Imitation of Christ show this fugshion week. On one hand: Imitation of Christ? The official provider of uniforms for the Fug Army. Any line primarily represented by the Queen of All Fug, Chloe Sevigny, can't help but be, well, kinda hideous. So, with that in mind, I guess it makes sense that one would chose to wear something unfortunate to celebrate a line that embraces the Fugly like an alcoholic clutching a Stoli bottle at happy hour.

On the other hand:

Jennifer? [May I call you Jennifer?] Annie Hall was like fifty years ago. And the only person who can get away with dressing like Annie Hall is Annie Hall. At least Diane Keaton knows how to properly wear a tie. You, on the other hand, look like a homeless Charlie Chaplin. Are you going to use that copy of Fashion Week Daily as a blanket later? Are you going to start yelling at people in the street? Do you plan on beating someone with your hat? Is Crazy Homeless Lady Chic the new black? Because I think I missed that memo.

Still, your skin looks great.

Dear Chloe "Fuck Your Umlaut" Sevigny,

Why so blue?

When you woke up this morning and realized that the oversized white sunglasses your mom bought for you at Raging Waters back in 1983 still fit your big fat head, didn't you smile? When you got out of the shower and decided just to let your hair do its own thing -- much as I do on days when I have a busy schedule of the stomach flu ahead of me -- didn't you chuckle to yourself, pleased with your own efficiency? When you decided to wear that dress that Half Pint wore in the episode of Little House on Prairie where Mary burns down the barn and wakes up all blind, weren't you filled with glee at the thought of your own unbearably ironic hipster charm? When you stole that umbrella from your grandma, didn't you laugh at the thought of the old woman stuck in the rain without it? When you then nabbed her orthopedic shoes and outfitted them with heels made of corks from the discarded bottles of Two Buck Chuck littering your bedroom, weren't you thrilled with your own ingenuity? Yes? Then why do you look so sad?

Does it have something to do with Vincent Gallo's wang?

Anna Wintour is the top Vogue editrix. So you'd expect Anna Wintour, being as she works at a fashion magazine --and because she's the titular Satan in The Devil Wears Prada -- to dress very well. But you would apparently be wrong.

It seems Ms. Wintour has taken a job at Fogue (a.k.a. Fugly Vogue), and is trying to dress the part by wearing no fewer than three garments on her upper body alone: A t-shirt, a thin and messy black cardigan, and some sort of nylon half-sleeved jacket, all of which are different lengths and styles. Her skirt looks like she accidentally brushed up against some wet graffiti. She is giving off the impression that being fashionable and trendy equals putting on as many things from your closet as you can find, all at once.

Apparently the sunglasses are her trademark. Okay. Maybe their presence will dupe people into thinking everything is normal with this outfit, nothing to see here, fug along...

From the runways of Paris's fashion week comes this little gem from John Galliano:


I think I'm speechless. This is what Abe Lincoln would look like if he swallowed Daniel Boone and then went on a three-week opium bender.

Has John Galliano lost his mind? I think he has lost his mind. Down a manhole.

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Bai Ling

The Book of fug

A book, huh? Is it just stuff you already put on the Web site?

Nope, we wrote the whole thing fresh, just for you.

Awesome. In that case, I want to read it!

Thank you! Click here to find out all the details!

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