Paris & Nicky Hilton

So, this photo has forced my hand. I have something to tell you, dear readers. The rumors are true. We DO have an undercover gang of celebrity fuggers who report back to us about Hollywood sartorial misdoings -- things they've seen during late nights at the Chateau Marmont, people we need to keep an eye on because they've heard rumblings about potential downward spirals, gossip they've heard from their stylists. Obviously, during awards season, we're all on high alert. The GFY Celebrity Underground Gross Garment Squad (Celebrity UGGS, for short) is meeting twice a week. And sometimes, one of the UGGS is so overcome by his devotion to the cause that he breaks cover, and this happens:

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Yes, Jesse McCartney is One of Us. (He originally wrote "Bleeding Love" about one of Courtney Love's outfits -- a little known fact.) He's very dedicated to the cause -- Intern George once found him weeping on the set of Summerland because Zac Efron refused to cut his bangs. Clearly, he's also one of our most kind-hearted UGGS, putting himself on the line to attempt to prevent this heinous crime:

January 29, 2009

Fug or Fab: Paris Hilton

I have to say, one of my favorite things about this job is looking at the expressions on the faces of the non-celebrities in various photos. Like, the dude in the red tie behind Paris here is totally making an extreme version of the, "GIVE ME A BREAK" face. Maybe he realizes that Paris is doing her quasi-coy routine again:

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We got several disparaging emails about this dress, but I must confess that there's something about it that's rather sunny and cheerful and if I saw it on, say, Miley Cyrus, I would think it was sort of adorable. On the other hand, it DOES have a lot going on. As Tim Gunn would say, it is approaching the Whole Lotta Look territory. But what do YOU think?

January 19, 2009

Sundance Fug Festival

I appreciate the youthful whimsy of Paris Hilton's cold-weather attire...

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[Photo: WENN]

... but if she wants to be a bunny so badly, shouldn't she just move into the Playboy mansion? Think of the publicity potential: Not only would she have an excuse for wearing as little as possible, but maybe she could sell Hef on doing some sort of hybrid reality project called A Shot at Love: My New BFF Next Door, where she makes the other residents compete to be her teammate in a big finale attempt to group-dominate Hef's next orgy.

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[Photo: PacificCoastNewsOnline.com]

PARIS: Oh, BFF person, thank you. You learned! This is MUCH BETTER.

BRITTANY: Yep. I am a quick study.

PARIS: You're kind of wearing a tutu, sorta-maybe, and it's a bit underwhelming, but you are walking like a FULL pace behind me! Just like I told you to! It is so awesome when people do what you tell them. You're like a pet!

BRITTANY: Uh-huh. It's a great gig. Just great.

PARIS: And, like, I'm totally in this kinda cute schoolteacher dress -- like I'm a stripper who's going to show up at some dude's bachelor party looking all innocent and then it turns out this thing rips off and reveals that I'm wearing lingerie made of an old Algebra book, which I have totally done, but just on a random Sunday night and it was just for some dude I met at the nail salon -- and you kinda look like a sad little pupil. Eating my every word with, like, a spork.

BRITTANY: Sporks. Right. Sure. And really, it's fun back here. Don't you worry about me.

PARIS: Now that you are on the right track, can you help me fix Nicky?

BRITTANY: What's wrong with her?

PARIS: Um, have you SEEN HER?
December 15, 2008

My Fug BFF

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[Photo: PacificCoastNewsOnline.com]

PARIS: Listen, New BFF, if I have to hang out with you because I won you on my TV show, or whatever, then you need to remember to follow the rules.

BRITTANY: You can call me Brittany, you know. It's okay. We're BFFs.

PARIS: Rule number one is, you ALWAYS let me walk in front, so that the paparazzi can see more of me than they can see of you.

BRITTANY: Oops. I just thought, you know, I'm escorting you inside! Like a bodyguard!

PARIS: Did you say "escort"? I am NOT a call girl. I have sex for FREE. HOW DARE YOU IMPLY...

BRITTANY: You misunderstood me, Paris... I swear. Okay, got it. What's the next rule?

PARIS: You are not allowed to wear more layers or accessories than I am, or else everyone will be looking at YOU and not ME. I am the star here, BFF lady.

BRITTANY: Roger that.

PARIS: "Roger"? Why is everything about sex with you? Is that all you think that I do? Because I'll have you know, I went to Kitson today too.

BRITTANY: I didn't mean... look, this isn't going too well. What else can I do?

PARIS: Next time I wear a dress that kind of looks like the Kleenexes lying around my bathroom that I used to take off my makeup, you can stop me. Like, it's nice and stuff I guess, but sometimes it looks like a bad accident. This dress was a TEST and you FAILED.

BRITTANY: Got it. Shit. I just thought it was artsy.

PARIS: HA! Joke's on you! I don't even know what art LOOKS like!

BRITTANY. OK. What else?

PARIS: You can stop wearing headbands with feathers in them. Or is that a pen? Anyway, it's stupid. You look like Robin Hood's Scottish niece.

BRITTANY: Heh. Good one!

PARIS: Aww, BFF, are you kissing my ass?

BRITTANY: Yes. Yes, I am.

PARIS: Well done! Now THAT'S what I hired you to do.

December 1, 2008

Fugly Dust

Recently we've both been sort of taken with Paris Hilton's hair, but suddenly it's gone from being a dapper head-suit to looking like a moldy old powder-blue tuxedo somebody yanked from a trunk in the attic:

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[Photo: Splash News]

I mean, that's not an Heiress 2008 coif -- that's a quasi-mullet last seen in some girl's senior yearbook photo from 1988 alongside a hand-picked Richard Marx lyric, then dredged up as a "before" photo for when said lady ends up on Jerry Springer accusing her high-school sweetheart husband of sleeping with his manager at Smart & Final while sporting the exact same hairdo and a mean left hook.

October 24, 2008

Fug the Cover: Paris Hilton

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I have sincerely been enjoying the way every other magazine in the United States has decided that because November is the month in which we elect a new president (maybe you hadn't heard), their November covers will be SUPER PATRIOTIC, and they all must OUT PATRIOT each other! Red, white and blue! Babies waving flags! People jumping out of apple pies with baseballs in one hand and the Constitution in the other! If I ran a magazine, I think I would have Michael Phelps on the cover, holding a bald eagle, wearing a red, white and blue striped Speedo and the word "VOTE" written across his chest in Sharpie. (After all, you SHOULD vote. And what better way to insist upon it than using firm pecs as America's chalkboard? Exactly. How do I not have a magazine of my very own?) And yet somehow Nylon seems to think that the most effective way to get across their love of country is a shot of Paris Hilton in which her eyes appear drugged and unfocused and her extensions are all wonky. Sure, you could say that was a conscious choice, but I prefer not to be so cynical and decide it was just a very, very bad one, especially since Paris has actually been kind of vaguely amusing lately. Still, it seems sort of tragic to have a bedraggled-looking Paris on the cover of a magazine purporting to be all about things to love about the United States, while relegating Jon Stewart to just two tiny words there on the side. Get him and Colbert popping out of that apple pie, and you've got my $4.50, kids.
It's killing me that Paris has been looking so cute lately.

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[Photo: BauerGriffinOnline.com]

I love this dress. And her hair still works. Granted, it was really hard to find any kind of picture of this outfit that didn't include her contorting into a douchey pose -- back jutting out and hips thrown forward, legs crossed so far you could lie a small child down between her heels, back to the camera -- but otherwise, it's great. I'm ashamed to admit that this almost makes me see some advantages to being her BFF. Sure, she'd never defend me if one of her other posse members decided to pick on me, and she'd probably trash-talk my only pair of Louboutins and then either steal them for herself or dump a vodka-cranberry on them to ensure their speedy ruin, and she'd probably put peroxide in my shampoo if anyone ever said that they liked my hair. I'm sure we'd hit the clubs and I'd wake up the next day with her face tattooed on my calf and no memory. And it's entirely possible she'd rig my pants so that they fell down in public, just so she could get a laugh and then swoop in and save the day and make sure I knew how much I needed her and never, EVER to cross her or else photos of my raggedy ass would be splashed all over the Internet.

BUT, she'd probably let me shop with her, and in a weak moment I'd probably get an appointment with her hair dude and/or take home some cast-offs that are too big for her. It MIGHT be worth it.

** Ooh, except that some readers with better eagle-eyes than I have -- at least when it comes to Paris's boobs -- have pointed out that the weird reflection on her chest MIGHT be some sort of nipple-covering device. Although I can't really fault her for wanting to hide them (since most of the time she seems hell-bent on showing off as much of herself as possible), that simple fact is saving me from slipping further down this rabbit hole. Thank GOD.

It has been an extremely long week, so it's possible that I've entirely taken leave of my senses, but I feel like...Paris Hilton looked kind of great heading into see Letterman:

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That color is great on her, that dress isn't too fussy. I don't care for the bag, but she looks sort of like....chic and relaxed. What's the DEAL? Is it because she's all in love? Is it because she's mellowing with age? Is it her hair cut?

Seriously, let's look at the haircut:

September 10, 2008

Fug, Not France

For Paris Hilton....

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...it's a Chico's kind of day.

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A book, huh? Is it just stuff you already put on the Web site?

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