The Golden Globes.
A sneak peak of The Oscars. Sorta like eating the cookie dough before its fully baked; you know theres stuff in there that can kill you but you eat it anyway because its all worth it in the end when you find that chocolate chunk nugget of a dress. I mean a bite.
However, I need someone to explain to me why the “color” of the night was phlegm. In various tones and textures. Taffeta phlegm. Bejewled phlegm. Pleated phlegm and for that va-va-voom factor: lacy phlegm.
Please see photo of the lovely Katherine McPhee (whom Im not sure yet if she’s an actor, a singer or the new favorite of career labels “a host”). Beautiful tousled hair with a perfect ratio of hi-and-low lights slithering around her shoulders. Flawless skin with not a single pore for miles. Why does such a lovely girl choose to look like melba toast?
Suzy Menkes from NYTimes referred to the Gucci Men’s show as “beautifully made and desirable — but dull.” Fits like a boring glove.
Oh, tawdry Helen Mirren. You cheeky little bird! Ever since you stirred up controversy appearing in that tawdry bikini you’ve held the bar high for what people should look like in their 60s. Or 50s. Ok fine, 30s! But after images of décolleté after glorious décolleté this navy number you chose for the Golden Globes begs the demand: show us your tits.
