Well Played

Dakota Fanning is 14 now, which means that we're probably about six months away from a crack pipe tumbling out of her purse, a photo shoot in which she dresses up like Jessica Rabbit, and an accompanying interview with copious f-bombs and the announcement that she really digs Goldschlager.

Hell, never mind -- by this industry's standards, we're actually probably six months OVERDUE for all that. It's so refreshing to see her looking like a nice young girl.

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She's adorable. Seriously, Ali Lohan is only two or three months older than Dakota, yet she looks like she's Lindsay's 32-year old sister. I once saw a photo of that kid at age 13 at a beach party, standing next to her "mother" in full makeup and a bikini so small you could roll it up and hide it in your nostril. When I was that age, I wore t-shirts over my bathing suits if I thought there was even a SLIGHT chance I'd be swimming around boys. It's just... I can't relate.

So three cheers for Dakota Fanning. I don't care if she's an old soul or secretly still playing My Little Pony in her room at night when her parents think she's sleeping. I want to hug her and reassure her that nightclubs aren't even really very fun, that liquor before beer only theoretically keeps you in the clear, and that her skin will thank her for resisting the urge to rage. Hip, hip, hooray.
I always kind of hate it when Paris Hilton looks good.

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[Photo: WENN]

I mean, it's not an outfit that revolutionizes my approach to life, or anything, but she looks good -- or at least, not stupid, like when she wears t-shirts with her face or her name on them. Sigh. It doesn't seem fair, does it? She's pretty much the Prom Queen of gross and tacky famewhores, so by all rights she should be guzzling too much spiked punch and then puking all over her dress and down Kim Kardashian's cleavage right in front of the principal, while Brody Jenner and his bros point and laugh and dump another mickey of rum into a bowl of Hi-C orange. Double sigh. Credit where credit is due, I guess.

Does this mean I'm growing up? I hope not.
Given the number of times we mention The Golden Girls on this site, it should be no surprise what a sucker-punch to the gut we felt when we heard Estelle Getty -- the mighty Sophia Petrillo -- died today. It feels like only two weeks ago that we watched her in Mannequin, telling James Spader that she supported Andrew McCarthy so much, she didn't care if he "put a rubber glove on his head and [ran] naked around the store screaming, 'Hi! I'm a squid!'" ... Oh, wait. That WAS two weeks ago. And it was good.

In the Defamer entry on her sad passing, a commenter posted a link to this video, and we felt its brilliance easily deserved its own page. So get out your giant tri-focals, your wicker purses, and your orthopedic moccasins, and eat a slice of cheesecake in honor of the woman who brought us this.



Picture it: Los Angeles, 2008. Two sad bloggers and their weeping Intern scour Lifetime for reruns, and send good wishes to Estelle's family. Thank you for being a friend.
We usually don't run photos of people in their bathing suits, but I am going to make an exception here. Because... holy CATS, Helen Mirren.

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[Photo: Daily Mail Online]


Never mind that it's deeply unfair that Helen, who is twice my age at least, looks better in a bikini than I have done, currently do, or ever will. Because I can't hate her for it. I can only gape. My girl-crush is now full-fledged love. While we all knew she had a great figure and a timeless rack that she'd whip out during awards season, I don't think any of us were aware just HOW much her bod is -- as the kids these days call it -- bangin'. AND her bathing suit is cute. How do you DO it, Helen? With whose blood are you flavoring your morning tea? How much did Satan pay you for your soul, and may I have his number? Or does he read Craigslist?

Seriously, this makes me feel infinitely better about aging. I might even go do a sit-up.
After all the sturm und drang of Maggie's hidie Tatler cover, it's nice to see her bounce back with this:

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All those dudes behind her seem to think so, too. They're all like,

MR. POLKA DOT TIE: THAT'S what I'm talking about!

MR STRIPED TIE: Did you see Secretary? It's a good movie. Amazing...storytelling. I...um, what were were talking about again?

MR. SUNGLASSES LOOKING ACROSS THE STREET:  Those men are pigs. I won't even justify their boorish behavior with a second look at that fine, fine woman. I am just going to look across the street and think about...baseball. Yeah, that ought to do it.

MR. LOOKING OVER THE SHOULDER: Hold the phone. Is that Maggie Gyllenhaal? Nicely done.

MAGGIE GYLLENHAAL: Please, enjoy the show.
It's so intriguing to me when a celebrity decides to attempt yellow. I'm one of the few people who truly hated it on Cate Blanchett a few years ago at the Oscars because I thought it was all wrong with her makeup and made her look sickly; I liked the shade Michelle Williams (the actress, not the Child of Destiny) chose when she was nominated because it was a rich hue but not so glaringly bright that her skin turned sallow. It's a tough shade to wear, and I for one am not brave enough to try. I am a coward (appropriately, a condition which would cause a mouthy Old West barkeep, or a cantankerous trash-talking Black Knight whose four limbs I had recently hacked off with my mighty sword, to call me "yellow").

So I love that Kelly went for broke here with the color. Most people run yellow lights, but I think this actually would stop traffic.

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[Photo: WENN]

The choice paid off spectacularly: Not only does she look tiny and tall, but it complements her skin tone; plus, the subtleties of her styling allow both her and the dress to shine without competing with, say, a giant necklace, or strong lipstick, or a bolero made out of Sprite cans. Brava, Kelly. It's kind of a big accomplishment that you're wearing radioactive Simpsons yellow and I'm still compelled to look at your face.

Wow, two "Well Played" pieces in a row this morning. I'm in such a kind mood today. It must be because it's not 100 degrees outside. YET.
The Artist Formerly Known As Marissa Cooper is as hit-or-miss as a game of darts at the end of a beer-sodden Friday Happy Hour. But when she looks good, I often think to myself, "I wonder why she doesn't work more. Somebody should give her another TV job."

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[Photo: WENN]

Then, of course, I catch a rerun of The O.C. on SoapNet, which cures me of that temporary insanity. But hey, at least she looks fantastic. Maybe someone could get her a part in, say, Mannequin 3: Plastic Makes Perfect, as one of the highly visible but ultimately silent supporting dummies that DOESN'T ever come to life. Everybody wins!
This week, we wrote our New York column all about Anne Hathaway's post-breakup revenge wardrobe, and how it's a brilliant strategy for throwing her slimy ex-boyfriend's relationship-ending misdeeds in his face as hard as possible.

If we'd had a month -- or even a week -- like that, we'd be on day eight of watching Ocean's Eleven while eating only ice cream and not brushing our hair. Instead, Anne has risen from the ashes looking like the proverbial $21 million bucks her ex needs to post bail.

For an examination of four of her Get Smart event outfits, click through to "Anne Hathaway Wages Her Chic Revenge." But the beauty of this timing is, right at the moment our column went up, we noticed a fresh batch of photos that indicate she's discovered new tools of vengeance.

Exhibit A: Nothing yanks the heartstrings of your ex and then pulls them out and around his throat quite like a little trip to Leg City.

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I know, I know. Those might be formal shorts. That part doesn't make me so happy. But I'm willing to overlook it, given the fact that her ex of many years is now in prison for allegedly being a stank-ass liar; she is clearly going through an awkward time, and sometimes a broken heart can blind a girl to thinks like the perils of formal shorts. (I would also turn a blind eye to the potential shorts if she would next allow herself to be photographed eating some baked ziti with meat sauce, or something, because she's just getting skinnier and skinnier, and there is a point at which if she shrinks any more her face won't have any room left for her features.)

In general -- hoping desperately that it's just the camera angle and that she is in fact wearing a miniskirt -- Anne looks sort of relaxed and cool and nonchalant. And LEGGY. We're pretty sure that when this photo makes its way into a tabloid, one of the prison guards (or, if he gets out, an anonymous mailing mysteriously also scented with her perfume) will make sure Raffaello Follieri gets a copy so he can weep for that familiar hike up Gam Boulevard that will never happen again. It's like what every girl hopes will happen after a horrible breakup: looking consistently good every time she knows her ex might get a glimpse, so he can see how well she's doing and how smoothly she's moving on with her life.

Exhibit B fits brilliantly into that last point.
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WILL: God DAMN, we are hot.

JADA: Hell yeah, baby.

WILL: We are the wickedest couple in the history of badassitude.

JADA: Not to mention dappertasticness.

WILL: And slickocity.

JADA: Sexification!

WILL: Jiggyificence!

JADA: Brangelina WHO?

WILL: TomKat WHAT?

JADA: Asslete? NICE TRY.

WILL: Davitoria Spiceham? I THINK NOT.

JADA: DAMN RIGHT.

WILL: Get back to me when THEY own July 4.

JADA: They would have to buy it off you for $100 million.

WILL: This town is OURS.

JADA: We are FINE.

WILL: Drink it in, Hollywood, because you are about to go on the 21-Day Smith Cleanse!

JADA: Next up: taking over the Hollywood Bowl with my band!

WILL: ... Okay, let's not talk crazy, now. Maybe let's just keep looking fly.

JADA: Oh yeah? Well, just remember who classes up your plaid ass.

WILL: Brad Pitt wears vests that match his suit.

JADA: And how did THAT go for him?

WILL: Point taken. Game, set, and match to my lady.

JADA: Damn skippy.

Why is Amanda Seyfried so cute to me? I don't even know. Maybe it has something to do with how hilarious she is in Mean Girls. She's also very good on Big Love. Maybe I have been seduced by the Mamma Mia preview, during which I had the following response: "This looks TERRIBLE. Is that Meryl Streep? But wait...no, this is so cheesy. Although...no, it's....hang on. I feel so confused. ABBA....Colin Firth....Meryl is singing...wow, does that jumpsuit have bell bottons? What's this strange emotion sweeping over me. HANG ON. It feels like...delight. SHIT. Now I think I have to see this movie." I couldn't help it. I listened to a LOT of ABBA Gold during college.  And so I must admit that even though Amanda Seyfried's dress here doesn't quite fit her, as far as I can tell, I think she looks pretty adorable.

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[Photo: Splash News]

What? You listen to "Waterloo" a couple of times and see how you feel afterward. I'll tell you how you'll feel: cheery!

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