Misc. Awards Shows

Here is the thing: America Ferrera HERSELF looks great. Just cover up her dress with your hand and see for yourself:

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Very pretty! Which is why it's so sad that she decided to wear something the color of much-used dishwater to the SAG Awards. I am hoping this is one of those things where someone who was there would be all, "DARLING, it was GLORIOUS in person, like a very SUBTLE violet-grey-beige-taupe-y color, simply DIVINE. Really. And that terribly sad black tulle sash was actually a BRILLIANT commentary on MELANCHOLY as expressed via FABRIC. It was TO DIE, truly. Truly, it was." Or else I'm afraid I just don't understand it.

Okay. We all knew this conversation was coming. We've got to talk about Angie:

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SNORESVILLE. We got an email when I said that her dress at the Globes was dull, accusing me of being a psychotic Jennifer Aniston fan who never misses a chance to attack Angie, and I'd like to say right here and now that nothing could be farther from the truth: I think Angelina is crazy hot and charismatic, and I actually think she's a sort of fascinating creature. Which is why I wish she'd turn it up a notch at these things. DUDE. You're ANGELINA JOLIE. You travel the world with your dashing life partner and adorable children, saving humanity, and you once walked around with Billy Bob Thornton's blood in a vial around your neck and made out with your own brother. YOU'RE MORE INTERESTING THAN THIS. Even if it IS comfortable.

Hmm.

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First impression: The actual dress fabric and color might be rather winning if, say, it came with some gently sparkly spaghetti straps and a brooch/blingier detail under the boobs. But I'm put off by the shiny satin. It reminds me very much of a bridesmaid dress that Marisa unwisely repurposed because the bride told her she could someday. (Never listen to the brides, people. They are crazy. They are trying to make you feel better about spending all the money on the dress that you only wear for one night, and in a fog of self-consciousness and stress and possibly a sugar high from all that cake-tasting, they're also trying to convince themselves and everyone else that their pick really IS so awesome that you'll want to wear it again, thus making them way cooler and more fashion-forward than every other bride in the world.)

But there is something very suspicious peeking out from the back, which I suspect we need to investigate:
The best part of this picture might be the women behind Nicolette Sheridan:

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Far Left is like, "I freaking love that you're taking a picture of this with your phone," and Near Left is like, "I know, but look at her! What is she doing? It's like she's welcoming peasants to the manor to partake of the leftovers of her Michaelmas feast. Except it's the 70s and instead of Michaelmas, it's her 4th Annual Arbor Day Key Party and she's still drunk." And Far Left is like, "But the color is pretty," and Near Left is like, "Yeah, but I think I just saw Blanche Devereux wearing this on a rerun of The Golden Girls. You KNOW somewhere Michael Bolton is totally smirking into his White Russian about this," and Far Left is like, "his White Russian?" and Near Left is all, "Please, you know he drinks them. Dude, this is going to be my best Facebook profile picture EVER."

So, we've got lots to chat about here, but before we get talking outfits, there's something I have to address. I'm sure the real title of the following is Kate Winslet Wishes Mickey Rourke Good Luck, but I would like to refer to it as, Kate Winslet Meets Husband Number Three:

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THAT'S a comeback, bitches. Plus, imagine the interiews they'd both give about this! Sorry, Sam Mendes. I'm sure you're a wonderful man, but I need this to happen. If only because I feel like Kate MIGHT be able to gently nudge Mickey away from his fantastic-yet-alarming Bret Michaels-esque sartorial choices and back to what he used to look like, which, if you were not aware, was this:


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HELLO LOVER. America misses you.

Anyway, Kate:
January 19, 2009

NRJ Fug Awards

I do not know what the NRJ Music Awards actually are -- other than being French, and....involving music -- but I know that any event whose red carpet invokes this expression on Katy Perry's face is A-OK with me:

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That's shock with a splash of awe right there. And when you've shocked/awed a woman who has performed dressed as a banana, you've got to be doing something right. Something like this:
Last time we saw Evan "Dita" Rachel "Von Teese" Wood, she had broken up with Marilyn Manson but was still piling on the makeup as if she were impersonating his ex. Except that Evan Rachel Wood is, like, barely 21, and needs a face full of slap about as much as I need to rub butter all over my face and then let it bake in the sun.

For a refresher, here is how she looked:

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There is more where that came from -- but thankfully, that more did not come from last night. No, our girl showed up at the Critics' Choice Awards looking downright soft:

Kristen Bell has learned the hard way that aluminum foil is better used lining your baking sheets for easier cleanup than for fashion:

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Next up: Trying to make sure she doesn't turn to cling film next. And hustling her out of there before anyone slaps a pork chop on her stomach and attempts to fold her into a very elaborate swan.
It seems this year's winner of the Needless Multiple Costume Changes award at the People's Choice shindig was Carrie Underwood, who wore a relatively tame three different dresses -- I mean, if this were MTV, she'd have changed 20 times -- and I can't quite decide how I feel about any of them. So let's put her on trial, shall we?

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you Exhibit A:

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The prosecution leaps to its feet and screams that this is a bit reminiscent of Sarah Larson's unpopular, shiny water-lilies-esque Oscar gown -- but as if this came from Monet's little-known Crabass Period where he threw a massive hissyfit over having to paint the same damn flowers all the time and rebelled by doing a portrait of the wallpaper in his mother's downstairs powder room. The defense narrows its eyes and points out that Carrie Underwood is seriously pretty and could make just about any old wallpaper look good, then casually asks if the pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive parked out front belongs to the prosecution, and sends a paralegal out to it with key. 



Next up is Exhibit B:
Let's discuss for a second how RANCID the new 90210 is. They pick up and drop plotlines like a serial dater. Drunkface still cannot act, and delivers 90 percent of her lines at warp speed. None of the relationships or friendships are remotely interesting. The clothes aren't even amusing enough to make me love-hate them. I seriously think it's being run by blind monkeys on downers. Lori Loughlin deserves better. Listen, Stamos is going to be available soon, now that ER is ending -- she and he need to figure out a way to recreate that old Uncle Jesse/Rebecca magic and save her from this toilet bowl.

She also deserved a little better than this dress:

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It's not... I mean, it could be worse. But unless she's planning to get married to a basketweaver after the show in a small ceremony officiated by one of the valets, I'd rather have seen her in something a bit less twee. And which didn't expose the fact that she forgot to loofah the Mystic Tan off her legs.

As for her show, I just have one word for The CW: Step the hell off Melrose Place unless you get someone there who knows how to pull crazy from thin air. I have serious, serious reservations that they will be able to recreate the mad genius of the time Kimberly Shaw Ripped Off Her Wig. Or when she tried to kill herself with pills just to lash out at Michael Mancini, but when he found her, he just smiled, turned on some classical music and poured a glass of wine. Or Kimberly's split personalities. Or that time Priscilla Presley almost gave Jack Wagner a lobotomy,Amanda Woodward incited her boss to hang himself over his desk, Sydney became a hooker, or Sydney joined a cult that counted Traci Lords as a member. Odds are, it will be more like the tedious first season of Melrose -- WILL BILLY QUIT DRIVING A CAB TO WORK AT HIS FATHER'S CARPET STORE??!?! -- and in that case, what's the point? Just rerun the original. Heather Locklear could use the cash. Hell, with the exception of Gay Matt, Kristin Davis, and maybe the resurrected Grant Show, they all could.

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