"Can we talk?" Golden Globes 2011

The Golden Globes may not offer the melodrama and scope for environmental/Haiti-concern posturing so beloved of people paid to dress up as someone else on quite the same scale as the Oscars, but the red carpet does tend to be a little more interesting as a result.

In a recent and regrettable fit of economy I cancelled my Sky television subscription so had to wait till today to see what Marchesa/Elie Saab gown everyone went for. On the plus side, I didn't have to listen to anyone awkwardly compliment Giuliana Rancic on her emaciated frame (miss you E! channel).

First up and in Atelier Versace, Elvira Mistress of the Dark decided to spice things up by attending with George Michael, and wearing something not the same colour as her own deadened flesh.

Still don't care though. It's long-sleeved and high-necked, as per effing usual. We get it, your sexuality is so understated. OR: you're a wanton whore who's dead inside (and possibly out) and you stole someone else's husband; style crushing on an elderly resident of The Emerald City isn't going to make us forget.

Paradoxically, Anne Hathaway in Armani Privé is a total success in much the same dress, and hair style, thus proving that Elvira can suck the life out of any look/relationship.

Christina in retro-prostitute look shocker:

Anyone who blogs this and uses the words 'killer curves' is a moron.

Ditto with regards to this hot mess:

I've said before that until Hendricks gets a breast reduction, there isn't much she can do to make any clothes, made by anyone (even, um, Romona Keveza?), anywhere in the world, look better on her. I spoke too soon. There is something she can do: not wear anything with an enormous ruffle anywhere near the boobs.

Angela Chase left her flannel at home, and proved without doubt that pretty much the best accessory for a red carpet/pavement/poolside/going to Tesco gown is a flat chest. Sigh. Appropriately, AngeLICA is kicking it 90s style in Calvin Klein, who's been kicking it 90s style since the dawn of time. But, surprise surprise, it still works for me. And hey, it's in an SS11 acid pop colour, so he's trying.

CZJ Scarlett O'Hara here lost everything she owned in the fire that destroyed Tara. Fortunately Prissy had salvaged the astro-turf they had ordered for the new golf course.

I've been reading a lot of comments expressing surprise over what a state Heidi Klum looks here. God knows why, she always dresses like she has mental health issues. I'm just grateful that for once I can't see her cervix.

By contrast I doubt anyone was surprised by any of this:

Or, I hate to say it, this:

I just about fancy January Jones, she's that beautiful, but she seems consistently incapable of channelling anything but saloon girl on a red carpet, and hellbent on cantilevering her breasts into the most awkwardly built dresses of all time.

Lea Michele has clearly been reading her own press. Because nothing says "I swear I'm not a total bitch" like Peaches and Cream Barbie's hand-me-downs. Saying that, I like it. Megabitch is beautiful, and her skin tone rocks this colour. The structure is amazing, and she looks as fresh and pretty as she knows she is.

Blair Waldorf is shutting it down all over Rachel Zoe's buhnana shop in pre-fall Burberry Prorsum. Amish sensibility? Check. Total disregard for the award ceremony-specific pressure to wear something strapless and colourful? Check. This makes me so happy.

I've never really understood the whole Jen-Lindley-is-so-stylish thing, despite her being the girl crush of choice for some of the most fashion-savvy girls I know. And this is not helping:

This gives me concerns over Valentino's health. He's pretty old now, is this the evidence that he may well be losing his marbles? And if you're going to wear Valentino, for God's sake why not just go for a Valentino Red? Oh, and grow some hair, you're not THAT pretty.

Sweet lord, Mila Kunis is hot. Such a shame there was that mix up at the stylist's that left her with Helen Mirren's dress. It confuses me why else she would have chosen to wear this. It's hideously fussy and clearly designed for someone thirty years older, and I'm sure Rodarte would have sprung for a freebie.

The biggest shock to me of the night was the fact that I DON'T HATE THIS:

Everyone else seems to, and I will admit that my first thought was "pregnancy brain", but it has grown on me. It's very Old Hollywood - an attribute all too easily bestowed on any old thing that's red/black/well-cut/not slutty, but this dress actually does make me think of 30s/40s actresses who wear turbans and smoke through cigarette holders. Weird, but lovely, which is always the best combo. The bag looks like a wallet though.

Next up Rumer Willis (who really should follow her mother down the major-surgical-face-overhaul road). This isn't strictly speaking a Red Carpet Photo, despite the fact that the carpet does actually appear to be red, but maybe Roo Roo didn't get invited to the main event. Which is a shame because she's never looked better. Makeup, jewellery, dress - all gorgeous. And good hair too. Just take that butterfly crap off the waist and we're all good.

Maybe this will help people get the message that blondes really don't suit nudes:

I love the dress, but get a tan for christ's sake. It doesn't make you a worse actress.

Ah, Tilda. When I worked at the Scottish edition of a certain tabloid they were fond of reporting on Tilda Swinton's every movement. This was due to a dearth of bona fide Scottish celebrities, which had the effect of a)provoking a frenzy in the newsroom every time Paolo Nutini, Amy Macdonald and Lorraine Kelly left the house, b)a misguided conviction that Sharleen Spiteri was still in the charts and c)the bizarre appropriation of everyone who had ever set foot in Scotland as "Scottish", which periodically allowed them to print pictures of "Scots celeb" Keira Knightley, whose mother was born here.

Of course, when it came to Tilda most stories (and I use the word loosely) centred on her "wacky!" dress sense, and no doubt they'll be having a field day with this racy little number:

But then, I wouldn't expect readers of a Scottish tabloid that is not the Daily Record to understand Jil Sander.

I love this. It's Miss Jean Brodie goes to Hollywood. Of course, it badly needs a belt, and a statement necklace, and a few of those buttons opened, and shoes that are not the colour of a My Little Pony. But it's Tilda Swinton. I don't want her to wear a sequinned strapless Marchesa. I do want her to wear some bloody makeup though, lots of it.

In a similar vein, I'm actually quite keen on Tina Most Overrated Woman On Television Fey's dress:

Just not on her.

It's navy blue, it's velvet, it has a low, wide V-neck; a lot of the elements I look for in clothes are present. Just picture this on someone younger and prettier (I'm sorry, but it's true), with loose hair, more modern makeup, less self-consciously glitzy jewellery and a much better bag. Slap some long sleeves on it and I can see M-K rocking it to death with straggly waves, raccoon eyes, red lips and a whole mess of tribal/navajo/diamanté necklaces.

And finally... we have a winner:

Hailee Steinfeld's Prabal Gurung is hands down dress of the night for me. I want to get married in this thing. Hell, I would marry the dress.

Here it is in Prabal's SS11 show:

Bravo, Hailee. Bravo.

And what would a red carpet recap be without a Joan Rivers quote?

"I don't exercise. If God had wanted me to bend over he would have put diamonds on the floor."

The world has gone Mad

So my friend Meredith and I were having our customary fashion discussion via text marathon during the Emmys Red Carpet (thanks Ryan and Giuliana). We do it every red carpet event that E! covers, it's like our own private version of live-blogging, and I thought maybe I'd get a cheap blog post out of it, but Christina Hendricks' breasts have obliterated all other images of the shindig from my memory.

Which leads me neatly to an issue I have. Not with the boobs (they're ludicrous and she totally needs a reduction, but that's up to her, and PS; January Jones is about a million times more attractive) but with Mad Men, and the infuriating influence it's having not only on legions of overly-impressionable television viewers who seem to be under the impression La Hendricks is the first woman to ever possess breasts, but on erstwhile sensible designers.


If I have to read one more article about how to get the "ladylike" look this AW I'll, well I'll just fall asleep actually. Mad Men, gloves, red lipstick, ladies, nipped-in waists, Mad Men, circle skirts, ladies, proper handbags, kitten heels yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn.


It is beyond me why any woman would want to return to an era of servitude, even if only through the medium of costume. Who the hell are these people that WANT to dress like someone's secretary? Or a neglected hausfrau at a coffee morning?


Prada, Louis Vuitton and Marc Jacobs (how could you do this to me Marc? Twice!), I'm looking at you.


And "the new calf-length"? Are they kidding? Please, it made Christy Turlington look frumpy. What do you think it's going to do to you? I don't care how "fresh" it looks after season after season of arse-skimming hemlines, there's a reason short skirts are perennial: they are FLATTERING. And every single dress on the Marc Jacobs AW10 runway would look better if you hacked ten inches off it.


Thank god for Philip Lim, Proenza Schouler, Isabel Marant, Gucci and Celine, all of whom proved beyond a doubt that a bit of androgyny is always sexier than dressing like the repressed secretary the boss wants to bang.

Corinne Day 1962 - 2010

It's ironic that on the day Corinne Day dies someone writes an article about how girls apparently want to look like Christina Hendricks, not Kate Moss. They don't by the way, they just tell themselves they want to so they can eat more and seem au courant. Or maybe they're confusing themselves with men, who do want that.


Day has always been one of my favourite fashion photographers. I've talked about this before (the 90s pretty much run on a loop in my head), but her work came to the fore just as I was becoming interested in the fashion industry, and I longed to look like one of Corinne's waifs. Sadly I was simultaneously growing out of my training bra, taking me right out of the running. But her impact went way beyond ushering in (with the help of Kate Moss and Rosemary Ferguson) the era of the waif. It was a fresh perspective on what could be considered beautiful: the plain, the squalid, the flawed, the natural.


Those who made all that fuss about heroin chic missed the point. The point, and what Day brought to fashion imagery, was the inherent beauty of reality.