Hilary & Haylie Duff

You know how sometimes, there's like a really awkward pause in conversation? Like when you comment that you really hate clowns and your boyfriend shirtily informs you that HIS PARENTS ARE CLOWNS! And then no one knows what to do and everyone just stares off into middle distance and feels offended and/or embarrassed and just generally at a loss? And you're just desperate for something else to talk about? Anything? Why don't you bring up the fact that Katherine McPhee and Hilary Duff seem to be turning into each other, and ask your clown-raised lover which of them ought to be more concerned about it?

Hilary Duff has been looking so much better lately. She's gotten a little needed meat back on her bones -- her giant veneers look much better and less Wererabbit-y when she has more flesh on her chin --  and she's developed a pretty reliably chic sense of style. She's also working an edgier brown hair color, she's got an album that's juicily pertinent to her breakup with Joel Madden (so even though she can't sing, we are guaranteed to want to listen to some of it), and let's face it, even if she secretly is a big ol' cokehead cow, we have to respect her for being that privately and not rubbing our noses in it by rubbing her nose all over the toilets in Hyde.

But for every ten steps forward, there is always one skid back, and La Duff is no exception.

I'm not always huge on yellow simply because I can't wear it myself without looking like I'm diseased, but with the dark hair Hilary can pull it off, and the dress itself is sweetly retro. But the problem is, she's forgotten that she has no neck. Which is fine; many people don't. I'm not exactly a swan myself. But when you are short on neck, you need to be long on caution, and avoid dresses that choke up on it and make what little you have disappear. This one does that and more, pulling awkwardly around her shoulders and chest, giving off the effect that she has eagerly and carelessly tied a large napkin around her neck in anticipation of the messiest lobster dinner in history.

Maybe she's just still depressed about breaking up with Joel Madden. Perhaps she needs a rebound guy -- someone better. That Shia Le Boeuf kid seems popular. The dude who was in Mean Girls is dreamy. What's Josh Hartnett up to these days? Or better, Jake Gyllenhaal? They're in different fame and talent leagues, but maybe it'd be a cross-caste romance the likes of which we haven't seen since Romeo and Juliet defied their warring families. Of course, SPOILER, those wacky kids died in the end, so we'll need to avoid too many story similarities. Still, give it some thought, Hil, if you need a nice diversion. Just ignore any advice from the Olsen twins or else you'll be dating a shady 38-year old "club promoter" and nobody wants that.

Now that Hilary Duff's new teeth are fixed -- or she grew into them, or whatever -- I actually think she's been looking really hot, especially with her darker hair.  Which is why this scrolldown is so very tragic:

It's like, casual, casual, casual,  an extra in the Love is a Battlefield video, the floor. And while Hilary is certainly quite cute, Pat Benatar she is not.

Lush Magazine is actually pretty cool. And yet, they've decided that the best way to style Hilary Duff is to make it look like she's sticking her head into one of those cardboard figurines you find on the boardwalk that make you look like you're a bodybuilder or a bearded lady or whatever:

Seriously. That hair is not now, nor has it ever been, attached to her head, or the head of another human being.

Also, she should get someone to take a look at that thing growing out of her neck.

Hilary Duff has done a nice job remaking herself recently into a more stylish, sleek version of the child star who favored 80 necklaces at once and rarely displayed any evidence of having a neck.

Having given her that credit, though, please allow us to pick a nit.

If she would just please learn to stand up straight and quit the coy shoulder-hunch, perhaps the thought floating through my head right now would be, "She looks lovely in that gown," rather than, "She looks so uncomfortable in that heavy bedspread."

Sigh. And Hilary Duff had been doing so well lately, too:

Although her shoes are making me twitch a little, Haylie looks quite nice.

Hilary, however, looks like she just finished a marathon of the 90210 episodes in which Brenda and Donna spend the summer in Paris, and while David is back home warbling "You Are So Precious To Me" at some new girl in high-rise ankle-baring pants, Donna learns to smoke and briefly takes up modeling with a lascivious French manager. And with Dylan and Kelly back home cuddling on the beach to Sophie B. Hawkins tunes and Brandon busying himself by dating a bigot, Brenda runs around judging Donna and then faking a bad French accent, because she met Reeeeeeek (Dean Cain) and wants him to think she is an exotic Parisienne depsite the fact that they are IN FRANCE and NONE of the other French people speaking English sound like Brenda does.

And while I completely advocate spending time with that slate of episodes ("Not all black people have rhythm, and not all Jewish people have money," Brandon haughtily sniffs at Brooke The Bigot, after she has implied that Andrea Zuckerman sounds like she ought to be loaded; "You remind me of George Michael," New Girl purrs at a squeaky, convulsive and inordinately baggy David Silver, who oozes hapless virginity), I do not advocate crafting a personal style from them.

I mean... a spandex off-the-shoulder minidress? A newsboy? Leggings that tuck into her shoes, yearning to live the dream of being stirrup pants? I think not, Hil. As beautiful as it was, 90210 is a moment in time. Let it be.

And, to Aaron Spelling, who reportedly had a stroke last weekend: We hope our dream of an all-Spelling, all-the-time network is soon fulfilled, because sir, you have made some genius television.  (We'll ignore 7th Heaven, Aaron -- we know you didn't mean to inflict that nightmare on us, or for so long.) You have a lot to be proud of, especially if it's true that you disapprove of Tori's new tattoo mannequin, and we hope flights of angels that look like Joan Collins sing you back to good health.

It's not a good sign that the first thing that popped into my head when I saw this picture -- well, after I wondered why Haylie Duff decided to go matriarch-chic here and break into Kathy Hilton's wardrobe -- was, "You know, I really do want to see Transamerica."

Pop quiz! Which is more disturbing:

A) that the paps are taking photos of Haylie Duff even when she's not hanging onto Hilary's arm.

B) that Haylie is wearing a long silk cami circa 2004 layered under a shorter blousier Forever 21 tee circa 2003 layered under a white hoodie circa seventh grade topped off with a tweed newsboy cap circa Sarah Jessica Parker.

C) That I feel like I know her boyfriend from somewhere and I can't figure out if I know him from the teevee or if I know him for reals and if I know him for reals, how the hell can I know someone and not be aware of the fact that he is dating Duff the Lesser?

Overhead at Element:

Random starlet/pop-singer/hanger-on: "I can't believe these bitches actually made me come out in public wearing a mini-dress made from children's sheets. I'm going to scratch Haylie's eyes out later. Right out of her head!"

Haylie Duff: "I can't believe Hilary's letting me come out in public with her again! I'm so happy! I feel so important! I feel so loved! I feel so pretty! I feel! I am a human being, and I FEEL! If Hilary hadn't told me that she would punch me in the mouth if I so much as opened my mouth, I would BURST INTO SONG!"

Hilary Duff: "I can't believe that bitch at Fred Segal talked me into buying these pants. I KNEW tapered legs were going too far. I KNEW IT. And they're so SHINY. TAPERED AND SHINY. I'm wearing tapered and shiny pants in public.  It's not 1987! What was I thinking? God, my new teeth are KILLING ME. Are they supposed to hurt like this? This is the worst night ever. I can't even look at Haylie. I want to go home."

Hilary Duff, in one swoop, is becoming the unwitting master of the scrolldown fug. During her hosting gig at the Teen Choice awards, she seemed to have significant trouble finishing what she started -- by which I mean, her dresses all look like relatively normal, fluffy, girly confections, until you scan her whole body and realize the outfits have whipped themselves into a fugly frenzy somewhere in the vicinity of her thighs.

Exhibit A: The red carpet dress. Perfectly cute bodice, and the color works on her...

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

And then... bloomers. Or the effect of them, anyway; in an offbeat twist, I think it's actually just that her skirt is elasticized so that it bunches and billows around her bum. That ruffle is just irresponsible. I'm not sure which is actually worse -- real bloomers, or the yen to recreate the effect of bloomers by turning a dress into a drawstring sack. Is she stashing something up there? Is that where her she keeps her whitening trays? Did something bite her in the behind, causing it to swell to such insane proportions that only a pear-shaped outfit could cover it?

The whole thing is alarmingly, "Hilary Duff stars as Little Orphan Annie in the hotly anticipated sequel, Annie Warbucks: Betting Her Bottom Dollar, about the puckish sprite's adulthood as a surprise temptress."

Exhibit B: During the show.

I am not in love with the polka dots. Nor am I terribly enamored of Rob Schneider and his cuffed jeans-aloha shirt combo, but that's neither here nor there. No, my main beef is with the shredded and torn bottom of La Duff's frock, once again an outfit that started off just fine -- if a bit precious -- and tragically devolved into The Dog Ate My Wet Seal  Dress.

She has the footwear down pat. Now if she could just attend to her mid-thigh region, we might be off and running toward an unfugging.

Might.