Oscars

Oh, ELLEN:

I know, I know. You love the Converse. You live in an old converted whorehouse. You're a smart kid and a bit of a tomboy. I like you. You seem smart. I think you're adorable. If I lived next door to you, we'd be hanging out, shooting the shit all the time. And if that were the case, today I would go shuffling over some time after noon with Tito's Tacos (for the hangover) and the papers, and we'd eat six or seven bags of chips and then I'd say, "Ellen, WTF?" And you'd roll your eyes, and then I'd say, "WHY DIDN'T YOU ASK ME?" and you'd say, "because you would have told me not to wear it." And I'd said, "And?" And you would say, "and you would have been right."

On one hand, it looks like what might happen if fish scales and lace mated. On the other, it's French and so is she, and she's so pretty and she was so, so lovely and adorable when she won, and you know what? I think I might sort of....like it.

I mean, for one thing, it's certainly very flattering on her. She looks like a sexy fish-lady on her wedding day, which I know SOUNDS weird and rude, but I mean it in totally the most complimentary way. You feel me, right? Tell me you feel me:

"This performance goes out to my grand old frenemy, Andre Leon Talley. It's all for you, A.L.T..."

"And I am TEEEEELLLLING YOOOU,

IIIIIIII AM NOT CALLLLLING.

You're the WORST STYLIST that I'll ever know.

What the HELL was that gold bolero?!?!?

No, no, no, NOOOOO way,

NOOOOO way

IIIIIII'M letting you clothe MEEEEE.

I don't want to look CRAZY.

I'm free, I'm free!

And you, and you, and YOU,

You're gonna RUE MEEEEEEEEEEEE."

Listen, it's hard enough to get up and get into that suit. Clean hair is JUST TOO MUCH TO ASK.

Oh, look, it's Renee Zzzzzzz......

Sorry, I nodded off there for a second. Not that there's anything empirically wrong with this; it's a pretty cut, a dazzling fabric, and a lovely cool metallic hue. But doesn't it feel like we've seen this a thousand times before on her? Okay, maybe not with that exact haircut -- which Renee has GOT to grow out before someone comes up to her and asks what it was like to be one of the Von Trapp sons -- but the rest is so cookie-cutter Zellweger. It has such a strong aura of been-there-done-that even Carolina Herrera herself probably had to take a No Doz to finish the assignment. Try some sleeves for once, Renee. Or a wig. Poke your legs through a stuffed Simba. Hell, at this point Renee could wear Bjork herself, and I'd applaud her for being refreshing.

"HELLO FRIENDS. I am SHARON STONE. And I am FABULOUS. BEHOLD my white suit, a tribute -- nay, a glorious homage -- to my peep John Travolta. Admit it. I look kind of rad in this. You know I do. For I can do anything: I had a brain thingie that exploded in my head...and LIVED. I had a husband who got bit by a dragon...AND THEN I LEFT HIM. I was the FIRST actress to show people my vagina -- THE FIRST! Well, sort of. Okay, that's a total lie. But for the purposes of my current argument: THE FIRST! I AM LEGEND. And yes, I look like a tapping-dancing maitre d' in this. I KNOW THAT. But I'm an AWESOME tap-dancing maitre d'. AND YOU LOVE IT. You'd look like a refugee from a college production of one of those Busby Berkeley musicals where people twirl around in concentric circles holding giant coins. But I look GLORIOUS. BEHOLD ME!

PS: I AM WEARING A RABBIT'S FOOT, IT'S TRUE. Watch out, I'll use as a swizzle stick in your cocktail if you displease me, HUMAN"

Last year I wrote that Cameron Diaz's white Oscar gown "inspired me to plug in my iron." Which I remember not because I am so amused at myself, but rather because her gown this year felt like an equally dusty "before" shot from an ad extolling the glories of spray starch.

Last year it felt like a linen napkin; this year, it's a bedsheet, and -- it must be said -- possibly a very low thread-count bedsheet she bought from Target because her old linens smelled like Justin and so she had to burn them.

It doesn't get much better from the back:

Okay, full disclosure: when Tilda here won, both Heather and I clapped with glee. Sure, she dresses like a nutjob some of the time, but she seems really coooool, and, like, authentic somehow. You know, she's got that crazy living situation where she and her ex and her current boy toy all live together and she never wears make-up, but it doesn't seem like an affectation and she and Intern George love each other, and if she's good enough for Intern George, she's okay by me. Plus, there's something to be said for someone who's a reliably crazy dresser: I might hate what she's wearing, but at least it's interesting.

See:

I mean...let's just say that Jessica Simpson wore this somewhere. If I'm being honest, I would so let her have it. There would be so many garbage bag jokes, Hefty would cut us a check. And she does look totally uneven, like she caught one of her arms in the limo door on the way over and had to leave it behind as a casualty of war. Or like one half of her body is going to the nunnery to take the veil (after her true love dies in the war, of course, and she will spend all her time in the convent looking radiantly beautiful as a heartbroken-yet-brave bride of Christ, and it will be SO heart-wrenching when it turns out her lover is ALIVE, and yes, I watched a lot of movies about nuns as a child, so what?), and the other half looks like she's going to the nunnery to take the veil, but it was really hot that day. So, yeah, she is not at all wearing what I would wear to the Oscars (two words: turbans!), but it's....Tilda Swinton. This is totally what she wears, like, grocery shopping. I can't totally ding it for her.

It's a shame Natalie Maines was not ready to make nice with her stylist; if she had, she might have avoided this red plague. The top makes her look so wide and enormous that she almost appears to be standing on only one foot -- as if she had actually been wearing the largest, most ruffled trousers on the planet, until a very aggressive man named King Arthur came along on his phantom horse and hacked off her right leg when she wouldn't let him past her into the forest.

So I guess the lesson here is, tip your stylist. Or at least let her hold one of your Grammys for more than two seconds.

I admit, I was hoping that Rinko Kikuchi would show up to the Oscars wearing something crazy -- a dress made entirely of bubble wrap, maybe, or couture legwarmers, or a turban. I wasn't alone. On the E! preshow, they ran a crawl along the bottom of the screen featuring text messages that viewers had sent in. Typically, they said things like, "Jennifer Hudson RULES! -- Sarah in Chicago," or "Where's Rachel McAdams?!?! - McGosling Lover in Houston" or "Ryan Seacrest is so HOT -- Ryan in Los Angeles." But one message caught my eye in particular. It said, "Wear something crazy for us, Rinko!" (Sadly, I did not catch the name of the sender. If you're out there: well played, sender.) And yet, I can't say I'm disappointed with Rinko's lack of Oscar crazy:

Because she looks awesome. This is what I imagine Chanel couture SHOULD look like, when I am imagining having the kind of money it takes to buy Chanel couture. I don't want to spend my bazillions on ankle spats. I want to spend them on something like this: exquisitely fitted, chic, a little sparkly, and very glam. And yet I hope this is not the last we'll see of Rinko Kikuchi. For one thing, her name is cool. For another, I suspect she has not worn the last of her out-there outfits.