Mischa Barton

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

What does one wear to a party honoring one's mother, and her charitable foundation? Why, a t-shirt with a skull sticking out its impish tongue, that's what. I mean, why represent your family and support your mother in a classy way, when greasy grubbiness is so much easier?

Check out Mischa Barton's sister Anya, with her hands buried deep in her coat pockets. The expression on her face is like, "I'm not with him. And if I keep my hands in here, I won't catch anything."

Thanks to the efforts of one our helpful -- and, in this case, extremely brave -- readers, we can now present the entire horror of Mischa "Marissa Cooper Dresses Funny" Barton's misguided, bow-encrusted previously mocked fashion atrocity:

Behold, the ill-fitting trousers. I've seen sexier pants on the PGA Senior Tour:

And the piece de resistance, The Bow:

Regular readers of Go Fug Yourself are aware that we generally only feature fugly ensembles that celebrities have put together for themselves, or with the help of stylists, for personal appearances or premieres or trips to the 7-11 for Cheetos, Britney. But sometimes there will appear on the televised landscape an ensemble so truly heinous, so utterly unspeakable, so completely ungodly that we can not, in good conscience, stay silent. Ladies and gentleman, I present to you Mischa Barton:

[Photos from http://www.theoc.blogger.com.br]

I only wish I could have unearthed a screencap which gave you a full length view of those pants. Which had tapered legs. And were basically jodhpurs. Jodhpurs! Paired with what appears to be Seinfeld's infamous puffy shirt, worn under a sweater vest (!!), adorned by an enormous broach. Be grateful, however, that I have spared you a full shot of the newsboy cap -- an accessory I considered a welcome casualty of the end of Sex and the City -- which featured an enormous green satin bow on the back. An enormous green satin bow so enormous and satin and green that I have no idea what Mischa Barton and the Yard Guy were talking about during the scene in which said bow was revealed, because I was so fixated on it's enormity, satinness and greenitude.

I suspect the dialogue was something along the lines of:

Mischa: I am incredibly wooden.
Yard Guy: I am the only actor in Hollywood more wooden than you are.
Mischa: I know, it's amazing they found someone with less affect than me.
Yard Guy: Am I supposed to look distraught here?
Mischa: I don't know. I just look as blank as possible all the time.
Yard Guy: Do we make out now?
Mischa: I don't care.

There is but one explanation for this outfit, and it is that the costume person for The OC has a jihad against Mischa Barton, stemming from some terrible crime Ms Barton has committed against said costume person, like burning down the costume person's house, or killing her dog in a ritual sacrifice and drinking its blood in the middle of the FOX commissary. If this jihad is not addressed by the powers that be over there at The OC, I suspect we may eventually be forced to endure a scene in which Marissa shows up at an event wearing jams and a Fez.

Did Mischa Barton's ankles misbehave? They must have aggrieved or otherwise embarrassed her in some way. How else to explain the fact that she's shackling them with her ankle straps and then making them suffer through tapered pants that bunch up at the foot and tuck into part of her shoe?

I'm also wondering why her grandmother's best beaded cardigan is making a cropped and ill-fitting appearance around her shoulders. The damn thing looks like a mortuary's powder-room curtains.

Judging by her sulky facial expression, Mischa Barton didn't think to look in the mirror until after she arrived at the party:

This is sort of a melange of fug. The frumpy purse competes with the frumpy cardigan, which is bedecked with the kind of cursory glitter you see on the sweaters of octagenarians. Vying with those two elements for attention: the see-through black undershirt with pink bra.

It's like she's a 90-year old stripper who's trying to prove she's Still Got It. Come on, Mischa, don't age before your time. Go back to being who you are: a young starlet who hilariously think she's Got It, but who actually has nothing but the VDs she probably caught from her oily boyfriend.

Mischa Barton, the weak link on The O.C., is quite the little fashion plate. She constantly puts herself out there in designer frocks, usually looks nice if a little bit on the Mary-Kate side of the Olsen line, and is generally fresh-faced and pretty despite having the acting range of the Post-It note I just pulled off the bottom of my shoe that says, "Jude."

Fresh face. Big smile. So why is she dating a giant tub of grease?

This is, unfortunately, the kind of fug that's hard to write without feeling a twinge of The Mean: The personal fug. Because although I have problems with his wardrobe above, I more often just generally wonder -- with complete befuddlement -- what the hell Mischa sees in this guy. He's usually sullen, and he looks like you could squeeze him and yield enough oil to run a KFC franchise for a week. When I come across a picture of him, I always think, "This person clearly smells like feet."

Sure, she's wearing a dress that looks like a bejewelled serpent is crushing her, but he's standing there like some sort of glam-rock lounge singer who can't open his mouth to speak because if he does, a giant gob of drool -- and maybe some chewing tobacco -- would drop out. His jacket there seems to be made of some weird scaly, shiny material -- and I will never get why guys try to wear neckties without buttoning their shirts. It's an "I Just Got Out Of Work, Am Nursing a Flask of Bourbon, And Am About To Roll Up A $20 And Put It Behind My Ear, So A Stripper Can Grab It With Her Vagina" effect.

But really, I have to call a spade a spade: Yeah, his jacket's kinda feh, but I just kind of think he, as a guy, is fug. Maybe if he ever acted happy, rather than carefully bored and superior...

... then I wouldn't be bothered about what he's got on, but when she generally appears to smell good and dress cleanly, it's very disturbing to see her hanging onto and constantly tonguing a guy who is as appealing as a walking pustule.