A Brie Grows in Brooklyn

Met Gala: More Fashion Analysis

I don’t know how it’s humanly possible that I missed celebrities when I was looking through images of the Met Gala last night, but apparently literally every famous person to walk the Earth in either California or New York were at this stupid fucking event. So I’m doing a fashion analysis of the ones I missed, partially because I want to, and partially because I’m avoiding yet another fucking deadline.

So, before I get started on a new celebrity, I’d like to talk a bit more about Kimmy K. I know the average eye she looked like a beluga whale wearing floral wallpaper, but the more I think about her dress, the more I like it. And trust me, I thought about it at lot.

A lot of people are crucifying — is she too large for that now? — Kimmy K for her outfit choices during her pregnant, but I admire that she is fucking trying new things. Sometimes she wears like an ordinary black dress that is very form flattering, and sometimes she wears like a turquoise sack dress. She’s looking at the runways, and she’s trying whatever she wants, no matter what people think. So fuck you people who say she’s fat; fuck you who those who say she has terrible taste; fuck you all, I love that my little (big) Kimmy K.

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The 85th Academy Awards: Live Blogging

What’s up motherfuckers! I just got to my friend Jamie’s house, which overlooks Union Square, to start live blogging the Oscars. The sun is setting stormy and dark; and I’m fucking riled up because I was stuck in fucking traffic on the FDR on the way getting here. My goal tonight is to write the craziest shit that comes to my mind, so get ready for some fun times.

6:05pm: Oh my god, Eddie Redmayne is the first thing I see, and I am dying. He might be the person on earth whose British accent detracts from his overall appearance, however. And the velvet slippers are a bit much. Still, I’d fuck the shit out of him. Hypothetically.

6:05pm: Kelly Rowland’s weave looks like it’s made out of the same fabric as her dress. And the dress itself looks like a prom dress bought from a vintage shop in the East Village. But whatever, at least she showed up.

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Grammys: A Fashion Analysis

You can usually count on at least one or two bitches to wear bedazzled nude body suits with a labia cincturing ribbon at the Grammys…

(In fact, you can read my round-up of the most outrageous fashion of all time here.)

But the fashion at last night’s ceremony was pretty boring, at least in terms of the big stars. 

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Golden Globes: Live Blogging

I’m clearly live blogging the Golden Globes right now. Because Caleb cancelled Time Warner, I’m forced to do it watching basic cable, so I might be light years behind spotting dresses. But at least I have fucking french onion dip to get me by.

6:08pm: I’m a little caught up opening a bottle of lambrusco, but Nicole Richie looks hot.

A little too much Dallas blue eyeshadow on the eyes.

I’m going to go ahead and call it like it is: Nicole Richie looks like a meerkat.

Also did she get a boob job? She looks like me when I wear a triple padded wonder bra and then wear a long sleeve shirt.

6:10pm: Woof! Blossom. 

6:13pm: Lady Mary is wearing a sort of 1920s layered gold high-necked shoulder pad thing and I’m into it.

6:16pm: Either Megan Fox is not a human, or she’s been fooling us into thinking that she’s had boobs this whole time. But seriously, she had a baby 4 months ago, and she looks roughly as thick as my left thigh. How is that possible?

Her dress is like eh, boring—tight, pale pink, whatever, lacy hot.

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Live Blogging The Emmy Awards: I Fucking Wasn’t Gonna Do It, But Now I’m Doing It

I promised myself I wasn’t going to live blog the Emmys, because honestly, it’s a fucking pain in the ass, and no one gives a shit what I write anyway. But then I turned on the recording I did of “On the Runway On ABC,” and fucking Hayden Panettiere, that athletic little midget-like goddess of the moon (I said that last part to be nice) was on the screen, wearing the fucking Marchessa dress I sold my first born bipolar child to.

So here I am, live fucking blogging the Emmys.

6:49pm: I’m behind, because I was watching an episode of Revenge (The count Of Monte Christo meets The O.C.? I’ve watched 12 episodes in 2 days). And guess what? The fucking main actress on Revenge is on the screen right now.

6:50pm: My keyboard is fucking sticking—no more mochi ice creams while I’m typing, I guess—so this might be a disaster.

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Cannes 2012: Diane Kruger

I’m not sure how they always manage to do it, but right when I’m doing completely fine, my family always manages to steal my happiness from me.

Through a chain of events this week, they’ve weighed me down with a familiar weariness. The kind of thing that makes it hard for me to lift my arms. My chest, it’s heavy, right at the base of my throat. In the morning, I think I can’t get up, but then again, I also can’t sleep. Even writing is becoming impossible.

Still, I’m going to write on this stupid fucking blog! Forgive me.

So, Cannes has been this past week. Although it used to be a classy affair—or at least it used to seem like that to me—it now seems an eddying point for the flotsam that jams the flow of news in the tabloid media.

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The 2012 MET Gala: The Ugly

I’m on the fucking home stretch now. I can see the finish line from here, baby, and it looks like a popsicle I’m going to treat myself with, waiting for me in the freezer.

Now, there were some truly awful dresses last night, a few of them hilariously so. Watch me as I flay them below.

(Can you flay a dress? PROBABLY NOT. Fuck you.)

I’m almost positive that Beyonce wore the worst dress of the evening. I mean, you can literally SEE her ass through the back of it. And talk about highlighting your vagina. When I first saw it, I was like, oh no you didn’t, girl. Oh no you didn’t wear House of Dereon. 

But then I realized it was fucking GIVENCHY, and I lost my faith in the entire brand. Forever.

Like, who do you think you are, Beyonce? Cher?

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The 2012 MET Gala: The Bad

My shoulders are cramping, but fuck me if I give up now. Don’t take that literally.

The next category contains the dresses that I think, for various reasons, are “bad.” Meaning either poorly chosen, badly fitted, or just plain ridiculous. I think. I haven’t looked at these dresses since 8am. My personality might have changed since then.

I’m going to start with Lana Del Rey, because she looked just atrocious. Bitch really doesn’t give a fuck, does she? Either that, or she doesn’t hire a stylist. Either way, the dress fits poorly (notice the vagina highlight), the opera cloak is ridiculous, and she looks like she got herself into some reefer. Her hair, I have to say, looks fantastic. 

Lana Del Rey, whose star is waning, could have played her fame two ways. She could have gone high fashion Florence Welch style. Or she could have gone balls out crazy like this bitch Bianca Brandolini D’Adda, who is apparently the heir to the Fiat fortune:

Like, this bitch did crazy RIGHT! It’s so ridiculous it’s fabulous. I want this woman to take me to a party, and dance on tables with me!

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The 2012 MET Gala: The Boring

Given that the event was populated mostly by Hollywood stars, many of the dresses were uninspired, chosen by the same stylists, and fashion-police-safe. I almost want to call this the “Oscar’s Category.” But instead, I’ll go with “The Boring.”

Wendy Murdoch fucking owns you. And all of your political opinions. She doesn’t need to inspire you with her fashion choices as well.

She’s wearing Vera Wang—literally. I think that if Vera Wang let go of her, she’d topple over from hunger.

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The 2012 Met Gala: The Good

Is it alright if I don’t write an intro? I have to fly through this commentary, because I’m fucking myself for the rest of the day wasting time on this shit. And there’s still about 100 dresses to go.

Without further ado, here’s the good from last night’s Gala.

It’s funny, when I interviewed Harold Koda (the head curator of the Costume Institute) for Departures, he said that his biggest secret pleasure was lobsters, and here Anna Wintour is, wearing one on her Prada dress. I love it! 

Anna’s fur stole looks completely insane, and is not weather appropriate, but come on, she looks classy. And I like it when she goes out on a limb, rather than wearing a floral skirt, a cardigan, and kitten heels. This outfit is good.

Her daughter, Bee Shaffer (does anyone know what the fuck Bee Shaffer does?), dressed in Erdem, also looks good, although the neckline is, in my opinion, completely snooze.

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The 2012 MET Gala: The Amazing

Last night, I was sitting watching Bethenny Ever After when I got a press release in my inbox. “For images of Emma Stone’s Lanvin dress at 2012 MET Gala earlier this evening, please contact me,” said the publicist who sent it.

“Are my eyes fooling me?” I asked myself. “Or was the gala really this evening?”

Because there I was, sitting in an old pair of velour sweatpants that sag in the ass, Caleb’s wife beater, and a Uniqlo cashmere sweater. If I had known that the Costume Institute Gala was taking place, I at least would have put on a pair of leggings and a bra.

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