Sienna Miller

Inside a Factory Girl party, Anna Wintour is caught out without her signature huge dark sunglasses, and remembers too late that half the reason she needs them is because she has no poker face.

SIENNA: Oh, bollocks, look at THAT, it's Anna Wintour! Editor of Vogue! Isn't it amazing that we're both here together -- a total fashion icon on one side, and Anna Wintour on the other!

ANNA: ...

SIENNA: Look, Anna babe, I've got this fab idea for your cover. It's gonna be me, right? Wearing THIS: a fuzzy sweater and nothing but tights as pants. It'll be, like, neanderthal lady meets Shakespeare. But with some serious control top.

ANNA: ...

SIENNA: Of course I don't need control top, Anna! It just keeps my bits warm for whoever gets them later. Between you and me, I'm thinking maybe the Harry Potter lads. Several of them, actually.

ANNA: ...

SIENNA: Anyway, your cover with me is going to make everyone talk, you know, because EVERYONE will be wearing this soon enough and I'm offering YOU the chance to be at the front of the line.

ANNA: ...

SIENNA: By the way, I really like your coat, can I borrow it? I'd like to cut it up into one of these shirts, and then maybe make a pair of furry trousers out of it that I can wear once everyone ELSE is wearing control-top tights-pants, and I suddenly become incredibly bored with them.

ANNA: ...

SIENNA: Come on, Winty, give us something more than just a robotic smile. Are you thinking about how to express how avant-garde I am? Or are you just speechlessly pleased to find someone who understands fashion even more than you do? Or do you want to have a go at my tights-pants? Come on, let's hit the Ladies, you can slip them on.

ANNA: ... Repulsive. Repulsive. You are an utterly ridiculous girl.

SIENNA: Er... uh, what? Sorry, can't hear you, babe! Too loud in here. Anyway, must dash. I see a camera over there that I haven't hit up yet. Kiss kiss!

ANNA: Somebody fire her. Immediately.

Well, they say that even a stopped clock is right twice a day. And so it has come to pass that I have stumbled upon a photograph of Sienna Miller at Sundance and thought, "Heavens, I quite like her coat."

Is it possible that, beneath her coat, she's wearing a torn and saggy promotional tee shirt from Discover Card, belted with a vine? Yes. But right here, she looks pretty cute. It's kind of a relief to see her so toned down -- no crazy hat, no hot pants. It's very simple (almost boring, even, although the cut and color are classic and classy), and it turns out that, without all that crap distracting us, she's actually very pretty.

Also, we're pretty sure that she and Steve Buscemi here are going to be the next big couple. Call them Buscemiller.

While it pains us to admit that we rather like Sienna Miller's dress -- the bodice looks like it's been painted with the kind of gold leaf used on expensive chocolates, which is actually a compliment, because we have never met an expensive chocolate we didn't adore -- we are really not terribly fond of her sloppy milkmaid-who-just-rolled-in-the-mountain-glen-with-a-randy-goatherd coif. We're all for clandestine trysts, but alpine afterglow isn't perhaps the most ideal red-carpet fashion statement.

Unless she's trying to communicate slyly that if you have something to be milked, her skilled fists can take care of it. If that's the massage -- oops, er, I mean message -- then, well, she'll be the most popular wench at the barn.

An Evening With Sienna Miller and Cameron Diaz:

We find ourselves at a well-appointed Beverly Hills home, at a dinner hosted by Sienna Miller. Let's listen in:

CAMERON: I know! Don't tell anyone!

SIENNA: Hah! I won't, I promise! I'm just happy I'm not the worst dressed person here! Not by a long shot!

CAMERON: Shut up! Anyone could forget her pants.

SIENNA: We'll just call that a dress, how's that? Although I don't know WHO wears booties with a mini-dress. Even I wouldn't do that. And I'll lace up my sandals on the outside of my jeans! Although I really just did that for attention. It TOTALLY worked.

CAMERON: I don't know why this is such a big deal. It's just a blocky, shapeless tunic that's way too short for me. My legs are good enough for it!

SIENNA: Your legs ARE great. But....never mind.

CAMERON: What? Tell me. I can take it.

SIENNA: Look, what do I know? My suggestion for dealing with a public break-up is stomping around the Village in my bathing suit and smoking furiously. Yours is to dress like a  elementary school student with a Mod-fixation and a need for orthopedic footwear. Maybe it's a generational thing!

CAMERON: Generational? How old do you think I AM?

SIENNA: I dunno. All that make-up, and the new Miss Clairol 'do and your desperate need to show a little leg now that you're single again....45? But a sad 45. Not like an awesome Susan Sarandon 45.

CAMERON: I'M ONLY 34.

SIENNA: Oh. Well. My my, this is awkward, isn't it?

CAMERON: At least my boyfriend didn't --

SIENNA: IF YOU SAY THE WORD 'NANNY,' I WILL RUIN YOU!

CAMERON: YOU CALLED ME DESPERATE!

SIENNA: I CALL 'EM LIKE I SEE 'EM.

CAMERON: AND I SAW YOUR BOYFRIEND SCREW THE NANNY!

The evening degenerates into a brawl. Hair is pulled, orifices are gouged. Ms Miller loses a tooth, although she later finds it under the buffet and puts it in her pocket. "I will string this on a necklace," she says to herself. Ms Diaz leaves shortly thereafter, nursing a black eye and a new, raw, bald spot on the back of her head. She vows to wreck her revenge on Ms Miller as soon as her face heals. And, lo, it will be sweet. Stay tuned.

What on earth, we wondered, could Santa have brought Sienna Miller?

She has it all: a robust and loving relationship with the tabloids, a highly questionable, on-again, off-again toxic entanglement with a man currently best known for boinking the help (okay, I guess he's technically, "that guy in The Holiday who boinks the help"), and roughly 3 million pissed off Pittsburghers currently plotting revenge after she wisely referred to their city -- to a reporter, mind you, not her friends -- as "Shittsburgh." She is, in other words, one class act, and what do you give a girl like that for Christmas? Other than media training?

Why, if you said, "her own fashion label," you would be correct, according to Now Magazine, which appears to be the British version of InTouch.  Apparently, Sienna's line will be inspired by: "the poetry of the Beat generation, Patti Smith and the dark and brooding London of Dickens." I'm fairly sure this means that we're going to see a lot of models dressed like orphan boys holding copies of Howl, and if there's one thing a modern woman wants, I think, it's to appear as though she has just escaped from the clutches of Evil Headmaster Wackford Squeers, who beat her more than the rest of the foundlings simply because she kept trying to organize group readings of Naked Lunch.

It's nice to know I'm not the only person who thinks Sienna Miller's reptilian sci-fi reject gold boots are unattractive.

That, or he just heard her come out of the salon thanking her waxer for the Brazilian. But I prefer to think he's with me on the boots.

It's always such a happy moment in a young girl's life when she's finally allowed off her leash for a few minutes.

Sienna Miller, in New York City:

There once was a young English lassie

Who occasionally tried to look classy

But even her basic black

Brought a measure of tack.

The poor girl only ever looked assy.

So, last night was the Met's annual benefit gala, which is always a TREAT for me, because it's basically a shitload of models and socialites, with a sprinkling of selected actresses, dressing to the nines -- no, not even the nines. Like the tens. -- doing the whole W magazine "W Eye" society party thing, which I just find fascinating. And every year, this particular event is a gold mine of fashion, from the utterly sublime to the completely absurd. For example:

Sublime:

Of course, it helps that she's incredibly beautiful to begin with, and this certainly isn't particularly risky. But as we always say here at GFY  HQ: there's nothing wrong with deciding to just look pretty. And, MAN, Thandie Newton is pretty.

Absurd:

Okay, now she's just f'ing with us.

Last night, at the Vanity Fair party:

Okay. It's totally shapeless - and I hate what I can see of the shoe -- but she's comfortable, right? Because if there's one night when you should favor comfort over glamour in Los Angeles, it's OSCAR NIGHT, right? Right? Who's with me? Oh, wait.

The night before, at a pre-Oscar party:

Please note, this has the exact same collar as the dress she wore above, which begs the question: are these dresses detachable? Because while we've all loved a detail on an item and tried to duplicate it on other pieces, wearing something this distinctive two nights in a row, on nights when you know you're going to be photographed is just, well, bizarre. Frankly, I can't see the rest of this frock, but if it's short, there could potentially be something somewhat 60s and fetching about it, but this is a look you wear once, and then follow up with something totally structured and fierce so you don't look like you're all obsessed with, like, housedresses.

Two nights before, at the Independent Spirit Awards:

Wait, what was that I said about housedresses? Sweet cracker sandwich, woman. It's called a waist. Find yours.