Misc. Awards Shows

So, this weekend, the Logies were held in Australia. If I understand it correctly, the Logies are sort of like if the Emmys had a baby with the People's Choice Awards: they're all TV-based, and the public votes, but it seems more prestigious than the People's Choice Awards? I'm sure if I'm wrong, one of our lovely Aussie readers will set me straight.  Many of those readers, in fact, emailed us to make sure we took a look at the red carpet from the Logies and...yes. You were correct that we needed to do that. 

With no further ado:

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Oh, Carson. You are magical. Never change. Someone who ought to have changed, though, is this young lady:

April 24, 2009

Fug Say Goodbye

Confidential to Paulina Rubio:

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You CAN go up a size. Here's the trick: realize that no one but you will know! You're welcome.
Oh, honey.

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I don't think that's how your seatbelt was supposed to work.

On the one hand, it feels so good to type the word "Heidi" and not have it refer to the Montag who usually parades around with plastic-looking inflated lips and the fiendish Spencer Pratt on her arm.

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On the other, this is the one time it might be nice to be talking about Heidi Montag, because this is a potent fantasy ending to her tiresome reality-show fame and nascent singing career: a nonsensical Barbarella Goes To Homecoming ensemble licked viciously by flames conjured by Satan himself, as she's forced to perform on Hell's equivalent of American Idol. Incidentally I think Paula Abdul is one of the judges for that, also.
Let's get the good news out of the way: Carrie Underwood -- Queen of the Costume Change -- started the evening in something only offensive in the sense that it incited me to a brief slumber in my seat:

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It's perfectly pretty, floaty, girly... there's nothing much to say about it, hence my spontaneous nap. I'm not inclined to rave, and I'm not inclined to rant.

But do you see that expression on her face? The pursed-lipped look of barely suppressed amusement, as if she's got a mischievous secret she almost can't keep? There is a reason: Carrie knew what she had in store for us later, and she deliberately lulled us into a false sense of peace. Check it out:
Is Amber Valletta pregnant?

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No, I'm not being sarcastic. I am genuinely curious. Google refuses to tell me. If she IS, she certainly looks comfortable in this roomy gown, although I am concerned that the pattern may cause seizures in those around her. And if she's not, she herself may have a seizure of rage when she discovers that people are wondering if she is. Oh, roomy gowns. You're so comfortable...and yet so rife with the potential for hilarious baby-daddy misunderstandings.

Oh, PETE.

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REALLY? You look like PeeWee Herman's denim-obsessed cousin, Levi. Did you truly believe the kids would choose THIS? Did you? THEY HAVE EYES, PETE.
Do you think this outfit is supposed to be symbolic? Like, that Paula feels trapped -- bound by the whipping, chafing chains of being on a high-profile national show like American Idol and having to meet everyone's weekly expectations that she try to look younger and stranger and more in-tune with These Kids Today every time she makes an appearance? To the point where all the stress and pressure chills her to the elbow and forearm bones?

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Or do we think she's just still a total loon by nature?

I think I vote the latter.

Get ready for the return of shoulder pads, guys. According to the New York runways, they're hot for fall; according to Mary-Kate Olsen, they're hot for NOW.

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These aren't even that extreme, but on her they're like tiny little end tables glued to her shoulder, on which someone taller could rest a cocktail during the party. I'm not sure I'm ready to revisit the times when we all looked a helmet and a mouth guard away from throwing a block or sacking the quarterback, but if my shoulders could be in service of, say, Intern George's margarita habit, then maybe I can get on board.

Oh, RACHEL WEISZ. She's normally so pretty, but this weekend...well, we had some issues. Let's start with her look for the Vanity Fair party, AKA Night of A Million Networking Moments:

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I saw this on the runway like two days before she wore it -- this sounds so glamorous, but please believe me when I tell you that seeing it on the runway was book-ended by, like, spilling coffee all down the front of my Gap turtleneck and being serenaded for twenty minutes on the subway by a man who seemed to specialize in soft, yoga-inspired flute-jazz that did not, in fact, make me want to find my deepest chakras but actually brought me to the brink of flute-inspired MURDER -- and it looked much better there than it did on her, even with the white tights and shoes.  I've been trying to figure out why for like the last three days, and I think it might be HER shoes. I love the dress, but I think the cut of the skirt is fighting with the strappy strappiness of the shoes, and, as that ancient proverb taught us, when your lower body can't agree, truly fugly you might be.


And then we had the ensemble she threw together for the Independent Spirit Awards:

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