Lindsay Lohan
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Fugly Fetty
New York Fugshion Week: Day Two
And Ronson, too. Photo by Heather, who managed to get much closer than I did. Lindsay was NOT wearing leggings -- or even any leggings-esque jeans -- which is probably good because who knows what we would have said to her if we could have gotten her attention. Oh, let's be honest: it probably would have been something like, "Your shoes are awesome." The crush of paparazzi around the lovebirds was a sight to behold. You can read all about it here.
What else did we do today, other than stalk Lindsay Lohan, you ask? We swam through a tropical storm, took shelter in many of Manhattan's finest bars, and:
-- Observed a way-cranky Andy Roddick, whose post-US Open loss funk could not be lifted even by Chuck Bass-esque menswear at Lacoste.
-- Decided we saw Evangeline Lilly in ugly pants at Rosa Cha. Now we're not sure it was her. But it might have been. Oh, eyesight. Why have you forshaken us? Also at the same event, we managed not to run over to Zoe Saldana and scream, "I'm the best goddamn dancer in the American Ballet Academy. Who the hell are you?"
-- Had our first glimpse of A Dubs, who was wearing a sweater and a coat in 135-degree heat and 100% humidity and yet never broke a sweat, because she has ice water in her veins.
-- Underwent tragic umbrella-stealage and less-tragic Becki Newton-stalkage at Vena Cava.
-- And finally, we ogled the boys from Gossip Girl and floated a theory as to why Mary-Kate Olsen suddenly looks....well, really cute and totally clean.
Well Played: Lindsay Lohan/Fugly Betty
[Photo: Splash News]
Red hair, skin that doesn't resemble a Florida orange, a bit of appropriately placed body fat, good boobs, refreshingly normal regular person jeans, cute top. BLESS. Samantha looks a bit like she tripped and fell into a Salvation Army in 1987, but what else is new? It's certainly an improvement from what happened the day before:
Dare to Fug Me
Okay, deep breath. I'm sorry. I totally almost wrote all that in sparkle font, didn't I? It turns out I am very pleased to see La Lohan out and about again. I need to get out more, maybe? Although I feel it's only fair to remind you guys that I have been involved in a very troubled and one-sided fictional relationship with her for years, in which I love her and she goes out and does totally stupid shit, so my enthusiasm at seeing her at an actual event and not at Bristol Farms buying cheese or whatever comes from a storied background of my own personal weirdness. But anyway: Lindsay's outfit: Ew. Lindsay out and about, without her mother and not stealing cocaine-filled trousers from innocents? AWESOME.
Fugly Lohan
Another pair have stirrups, BUT are also the least expensive of the bunch at the low, low, low, low price of $99. For a pair of shiny, dry-clean only stirrup leggings. Because you're also using dollar bills to light your crack pipe.
And, finally, the piece de resistance, what Lilo is calling Leopard Ankle Gloves:
MTV Movie Awards Fug Carpet: LiLo
"It's me! Lindsay! Star of Mean Girls and and Freaky Friday and... let's skip a few here... ah yes, those commercials for the MTV Movie Awards! And Ugly Betty! And now I'm working on something else! It's this movie about... stuff! GOOD stuff! Stuff where I don't play a stripper who loses all her limbs, or anything! I think! Anyway, I'm back and I'm in cute shoes and my pupils aren't weirdly dilated and I need my roots done, because I'm REAL yo, and I totally DO NOT CARE that my mother and my sister are trying to get famous by talking about me all the time on their dumb show. I am NOT bothered by the fact that they have their own press appearances and paparazzi attention, and like, I SO AM NOT EVEN WORRIED about the fact that more people have talked about my sister watching grainy footage on the Internet that CLAIMED to be me having sex, than they have about my current career prospects! IT'S FINE. I don't need to resort to any dumb publicity stunts for people to talk about me, like having a reality show, or wearing really short skirts that might blow up if a gust of wind magically comes by at EXACTLY the right moment, or... ahem, i SAID, IF A GUST OF WIND MAGICALLY COMES BY AT EXACTLY THE RIGHT MOMENT... Dammit, Samantha, I gave you ONE JOB... oh, ah, here we go:
Dare To Fug Me
I'm pleased Lindsay Lohan is apparently booking a few jobs that give me headline material for whenever we want to feature her. And I think I'm supposed to settle for being pleased that she is not wearing leggings here.

However, I'm distinctly NOT pleased that she's forsaken the Spandex Scourge in favor of looking like somebody dug her out of their attic, shampooed her, and then brought her to Antiques Roadshow to find out if Marie Antoinette ever sat on her at a state dinner.
I would suggest that maybe her mom could stop gallivanting around being gross and trying to turn her youngest kid into a new meal ticket, but alas, I'm pretty sure Dina's influence would only cause Linds to streak on some leg bronzer and throw on some even CLUMSIER makeup, all part of the Lohan Matriarch's effort to make sure her kids look so prematurely old that she could pass as their younger sister. Sigh. Maybe Lindsay learned her lesson about unflatteringly short skirts when she wasn't allowed to sit down anywhere without a cater-waiter performing a panty check; however, in the wrong hands that could be interpreted as a dating strategy, so I should probably just give up hope and go meditate on lunch.
Fug or Fab (or Feh): Lindsay Lohan
So, it seems that LiLo's leggings line is actually happening. I swear to God, I thought the whole thing was a joke. I am going to continue to believe that, actually, if only to save my own already fragile sanity. But at least she's stopped showing up places wearing them ALL THE TIME:

I don't hate the top, I love the shoes, I am amused that her jeans are as leggings-esque as possible, and I am not going to talk about the tan, the blonde Dina hair, or the so-1998 "Lindsay" charm necklace. Maybe she's just wearing that because she's really stoked about the Sex and the City movie, and tomorrow we'll see her out and about with a giant flower pinned to her label and a tutu skirt, making out with a picture of Chris Noth. She looks... fine. I guess. I don't know. I'm in that place with Lindsay where I am psychologically conditioned to care but kind of don't anymore. I think they call that closure.
I Fug Who Killed Fug
Oh, Lindsay. Lindsay, Lindsay, Lindsay. Lindsay. Lindsay. Lindsay.
Yes, I am so glad you're not wearing Those That Shall Not Be Named. But must you replace Them with something that makes you look weirdly as though you're wearing one of Disney's Teacups? Is THIS how you're attempting to get back into The Mouse's good graces (because, dollface, I think that relationship is probably seriously unsalvageable)? You just look droopy, babe. (I'M TALKING ABOUT HER HAIR, YOU PERV. Er, mostly. A wee bit of tailoring on those straps wouldn't go amiss, but you didn't hear it from me.) Also, white shoes? For seriously? You make me sad. AGAIN.
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