Leighton Meester

November 18, 2009

Leightfug Meestfug

Leighton Meester gave me almost more than I could handle over my breakfast this morning.

It did not start with this, but this is part of it:

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The eye makeup is ... intense. I know Leighton fancies herself a rock-star now, but she has the kind of eyes that look a lot smaller when you pile on the makeup, to the point where it kinda makes her look puffy and tired no matter what she's doing. The dress, well, I've never really understood wanting to make it look like you're wearing a tube top, and I certainly hope she had a car take her to this party, because otherwise I don't know how she would sit down on the subway or in a taxi without catching something unpleasant. But, whatever. At least the tube-top is keeping the girls in place, and even though I hate the art-deco mules she's wearing, I can deal with where she was going with this.

Perhaps that's because BEFORE I looked at this dress, I saw what Leighton wore inside the party to perform. It grieves me that we don't have legal access to put that photo on our Web site, and I PRAY that this link does not expire, because you need to see this, because OH MY GOD, when did Leighton Meester become Solange?

Just as bad is her new music video:
You might think I would object to this dress on the basis of the giant flower alone.

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[Photos: WENN.com]

Not true. There is potential in that flower. It has gumption. It would walk into a CEO's office, straight past the protesting assistant, and demand to be considered for a promotion. No, more than that, it would impersonate its boss while said boss is recovering from a broken leg sustained during a skiing accident, borrow liberally from the boss's wardrobe, arrange a major deal with Harrison Ford that involves crashing a dude's daughter's wedding just to convince him to take a meeting with you, get a horrendous haircut that's supposed to be more chic and professional than her teased-up ferry-proof hair, dump stupid cheating Alec Baldwin, and then win the day and an office of her own when the boss returns and tries to claim the brilliant deal idea as her own -- all while delivering its lines with the diction of a 13-year old girl who accidentally drank a glass of scotch. That flower has moxie.

But those shoes have a giant blackhead. And the blue print blossoms on the skirt are kind of distracting, like the dress fell down hard and bruised itself. Not to mention that Leighton's lank mane is kind of competing with the bloom that's growing from her torso. There is a lot going on here, and what I'm saying is, I don't think all blame can be pinned on the very dramatic chest flower.

In the interests of full disclosure, or at least as full as I can make it, here is a photo that shows the back:

Hey guys,

Starting this one off with a bit of housekeeping. Because we've really enjoyed having comments open on the Unfug It Up posts, we've decided to open them occasionally on other sorts of posts as well -- like Fug or Fabs, so you guys can weigh in on the very pressing issues at hand, as well as voting. Thanks for being such an awesome community, and we look forward to reading all your funny, constructive, clever commentary.

ONWARDS. Let's talk about Leighton.

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First off, I need to say in a public forum that I found Hilary Duff to be surprisingly kind of charming and likeable on Gossip Girl this week. She's a better actress than certain regulars who shall remain nameless (not you, Leighton. You're always excellent, even if there's something about your current plotline that makes me mutter, "don't you have CLASS TO GO TO?" like a crotchety old bat). Charming and likeable, much like this entire look...until you get to the shoes. Which I love. But the socks make me want to stab myself with a baguette and pelt innocent children with hardened discs of pate (...when in Paris). And I don't understand why she appears to be holding what is surely the poshest, priciest, most covetable laptop bag ever. In short, confusion reigns. As usual.
 
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BLAKE LIVELY: Hi L.

LEIGHTON MEESTER: Hey, B.

BLAKE: Am I showing way too much skin?

LEIGHTON: As usual. Boobs OR legs, remember, Blake?

BLAKE: I have the worst time with that.

LEIGHTON: We know. And your dress has an open back.

BLAKE: So?

LEIGHTON: You're beating us about the head and neck with your hotness, when you really ought to just let it hug us tenderly.

BLAKE: I don't know what that means.

LEIGHTON: Stop showing so much skin. For the 10th time.

BLAKE: Your turn.

LEIGHTON: Whatever do you mean?

BLAKE: Uh. Your dress is like way too big for you and you're wearing shoulder pads that give a whole new meaning to the phrase, "don't squeeze the Charmin."

LEIGHTON: What new meaning is that?

BLAKE: I don't know. It was the only toilet paper joke I could think of.

LEIGHTON: Bitch, please, this outfit is directional.

BLAKE: It should have directed you to a tailor. And what about your face? At least my makeup looks awesome.

LEIGHTON: Your hair doesn't.

BLAKE: WE'RE STILL TALKING ABOUT YOU:
September 18, 2009

Leighton Meestfug

I feel Leighton Meester -- Fashion Week is tiring, especially when you have another job you're doing at the same time.

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But even so, in our tiredness, we have never worn a bathing suit under drawstring shorts to a show. We'll save that for the day we want Anna Wintour to have us arrested for public lazyness.

At least Leighton Meester keeps it interesting. At first you see the tousled hair and cute minidress and think that's all there is to see, and then... and THEN:

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Those shoes are many things -- aggressive, likely to cause unusual blisters, the footwear of choice for cocktail waitresses at King Tut's Falafel Pyramid -- but dull is not one of them. However, I don't particularly think the shoes and the dress work together: The patterns fight, and something about the height of the ankle cones cut off her leg at the worst point and makes you wonder if she's sprouted some cankles. (I am certain she hasn't. Blair Waldorf would never allow it.) Still, on a night where not much of interest happened that didn't involve Lady Gaga scaring the bejeesus out of me and Eminem, I applaud her for giving my fingers ample reason to pound on this keyboard. Otherwise, the bastards would be banging out the URL for eBay and searching on "Louboutin" and that might end badly.

September 10, 2009

Leighfug Meester

You guys, I'm so excited!

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As long as I poke an arm through a hotel pillowcase and employ a really huge belt, I can TOTALLY rock my black ski pants this fall! VICTORY!

P.S. Leighton, whoever told you to go with mellow lipstick AND light eye makeup is not your friend.
Oh, Leighton, all is forgiven:

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You look so pert and adorable in this, I just can't stay mad at you. Aren't you SO RELIEVED?

August 10, 2009

Leighton Fugster

It's rare that my brain is working hard enough on a Monday for it to experience a mind-flood, and yet, here I am, awash with objections:

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1) Whoa.

2) Didn't I see that pattern on an inspirational poster with the word "SUCCESS" or "INTEGRITY" underneath it, paired with a stirring motivational quote that's supposed to make me a more stable person? And if not, can we turn this into a poster that says "FUGDACITY" or "FUGSEVERANCE" that's all about having the intestinal fortitude to keep wearing cracked-out patterns?

3) It's as if someone tore open her clothes in a passionate fury, then thought, "Oh, crap, I shouldn't have done that," and decided the ONLY thing that could fix it would be the creation of a matching sports bra. In about two weeks, I expect to hear that Nike has signed Leighton for a lucrative deal to model a line of athletic dresses-- just the thing for the women (or men, I suppose) who swear they would run every day if shorts didn't ruthlessly chafe their inner thighs. Then Central Park will be crawling with people in jogging dresses, and before you know it, the U.S. Olympic track-and-field athletes will streak around the track in full-support cocktail frocks. It's a revolution, people. It's the "looks like a pump, feels like a sneaker" of workout apparel.

4) Ooh, actually, the OTHER place I saw this: It reminds me of the red sky during the end of Empire Strikes Back, when Luke is hanging underneath the Cloud City with his one hand, using the Force's psychic text-message system to make Leia turn around and come back for him. So maybe this is Leighton's subtle way of suggesting to us that when it comes to getting dressed, she could -- wait for it -- really use a hand. THANK YOU, I'll be here all week. Tip your server.
Why so coy, Leighton?

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You look like you have a secret. A naughty, naughty secret. What could that be about? The top/front of your dress is sort of interesting and cool. But that wouldn't provoke such a self-amused little smirk. Could it possibly have something to do with the fact that there exist almost NO pictures of your backside at this event? Were you scuttling about the Movie Awards like a chic little crab? Have you started to grow a tail? What is happening here, dear B?

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