You know you want it . . .
Time for my annual review of the Oscar fashions! Woo hoo! And this year, I’ve extended my reach tremendously! Unlike last year when I had a mere 25 readers, I’ve just about quadrupled that.
(Hello Albuquerque! Yo Richmond Hill, Ontario! Hey Wausau, Wisconsin! And bon jour Saint-Hyacinthe, Quebec!)
Hear me as I channel the genie from Aladdin.
Phenomenal cosmic powers!
OK, totally joking there. But welcome one, welcome all!
So who watched Sunday night? The show? Fairly boring, but the red carpet served up its usual variety of the fabulous and what-was-she-thinkings?
Before I bestow my judgment upon Hollywood’s elite, I must first point out that it appears at least one of them is a loyal reader. I am totally, one-hundred-and-fifty-six-point-nine-eight-four convinced that John Travolta read my blog and stole my husband’s summer haircut.
Mark, July 2007
John Travolta, February 2008
Can you believe that? I mean really, are we talking separated at birth here? Only, I think Mark’s looks better (I do, really; I’m not just saying that because he’s my husband and not some crazy jet-flying, scientologist actor. Mark’s definitely looks better).
However, as hard as he tries, Mark will never quite have Travolta’s famous dance moves. (Sorry honey).
OK, now onto the fashions. Let’s start with something positive.
Dear Jennifer, I am sorry that Gary Busey assaulted you and slobbered all over your neck, but I really can’t blame him. The necklace! The hair! The dress! If I were there, I might have been tempted to do the same thing. Seriously. Mwah!
I said it last year, and I’ll say it again, she looks better than most women half her age. I love this color, love the sleeves, love, love, LOVE! Long live the Queen!
Oy. Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer.
Last year, you walked the red carpet with a giant scrap of tinfoil on your back and this year your boobs look like two basketballs stuffed into a tube sock. How unfortunate. Because really, the rest of the dress is fantastic. The white is gorgeous, the flowy skirt is positively goddess like. But the squashy, mushed up thing going on with your breasts overpowers all of that.
Three words: Fire. Your. Stylist.
How cute is she? I just want to take her home and bake her an apple pie. (Or maybe she should make me one?)
Didn’t this woman just have a baby? Because when I saw her, the first thing I thought of was those commercials about how 35-cents a day will buy a starving child in Africa a bowl of rice and how I really wanted to send her my 35 cents. Good God, eat something! The second thing I thought of: Never match your dress to your skin tone. And the final thing: Stand up straight, you’re on the freakin’ red carpet for cripe sakes!
Is Colin having trouble getting work? Because if I didn’t know any better, I swear he’s primed to do one of those Geico caveman commercials.
All I have to say is that it is a REALLY good thing the Oscar is based on talent and not fashion sense. Is that a hefty bag? And the . . . . makeup (or lack of it?) YOU ARE AT THE OSCARS! Put on some freakin’ lipstick and a little powder. Good God, I don’t even go to the grocery store without a little lip gloss. What are these people thinking?!?
Cate is usually one of my favorites, but I just wasn’t feeling it this year. The color is pretty, but the hair is too casual. I’m giving her a free pass, pregnancy makes you do all kinds of crazy stuff. But next year? I’m expecting the usual Cate back.
Last year, I said she was wearing an 80s prom dress. This year, the dress is better, but it looks like a high school dropout from the 80s in her first year of beauty school did her makeup. Le sigh. She’s such a knockout too. Pity.
Oh Johnny, you are one entertaining piece of work both on and off screen. I’m chalking this up to either creative genius or you just plain old don’t care. Either way, I still love you.
Heeeellllloooo gorgeous. Now this? Is what the Oscars are all about.
And with that, I leave you. Thoughts? Agree? Disagree? Come on Minnesota! Tell me what you think Holtsville! Canada, got anything to add, eh?