Tag: Glamour

Fabulous, Fashion, Humor

Dressing Up/Dressing Down

“Fashion is like the id.  It makes you desire things you shouldn’t.”
– Bob Morris

Well well, it was the night of Marchesa, Armani Prive,  and Elie Saab!  There were some good, some bad, and some ugly.  Metallics, ruffles blush/nude/pale colors, thigh-high slits, and jeweled shoulder accents gave a good showing and though perhaps not as daring as last year, I was still impressed.  Heck, even Kristen Stewart cleaned up!

The Good

Vera Farmiga  and Sandra Bullock in Marchesa.  Bullock gets top marks for classy hair and the pop of red lips.

Elizabeth Banks and Demi Moore in Versace.  Banks is better here though both are on point with the ruffles, gray is an undervauled color in my opinion.

The fabulous Meryl Streep in Chris March and Kristen Stewart (surprisingly washed and coiffed) in Monique Lhullier.

Anna Kendrick and Rachel McAdams in Elie Saab.  Kendrick’s isn’t the best of the best, but she’s on point and the blush goes good with the dark hair.  McAdams was my favorite dress of the night.  Way to rock a print at the Oscars, only you and Maggie did it and both pulled it off.  Ah, Elie Saab, my love affair with you continues…

Queen Latifa in Mischka Badgley, showing how you’re supposed to dress luscious curves: right color, right accents.  Carey Mulligan in Prada, doing another cut-away-in-the-front dress.  Works!

The Bad

Amanda Seyfried and Jennifer Lopez’s stylists obviously aren’t BFFs, otherwise they might have warned one another that their clients would both be rocking Armani Prive in basically the same material.  This is purely fabric dislike on my part.  And though Lopez gets points for daring, I’m still not loving the bunch on her hip.  In Seyfried’s case, the color washes her out.

In Gabourey Sidibe’s case, I wanted to like her gown, after all it’s another Marchesa and a fantastic color but I really dislike the applique florals.  They bring down the dress for me, to a crazy nursing home belle.  If she had stuck with just this gorgeous draped blue fabric with just the sparkles on her wrist and ears it would have been classed up.  Charlize Theron, in Dior, was bad.  No one should have a perverted Miss America sash groping you.  Period.

Anika Noni Rose in (didn’t catch the designer) and Zoe Saldana in Givenchy.  Both these girls had the same problem: their bejeweled bustiers made an appearance.  The bottom of Saldana’s gown is interesting, but I’m going to have to give both of these a thumbs down.

The Ugly

Diane Kruger and Sara Jessica Parker both bombed in Chanel (impossible, you say?  This is Chanel after all.  Yes).  There were good elements in both gowns, but neither translated on the wearers, I thought.  The first is Eliza Doolittle Goes to the Races, and the second is a sack. 

Congratulations, Mariah Carey, you managed to make Valentino look bad.  The proportions here are just all wrong.  And, Miley sweetie, better than last year but you join Saldana with underwear as outerwear for a top.  And you’re tiny but you looked so cinched in you might as well have been wearing Spanx.  Keep trying, you’re getting there.

And the dress I wanted to take home for myself (I don’t think I could pull off the McAdams dress, unfortunately, but this one would more than compensate): Penelope Cruz’s Donna Karan.

Thoughts?  Compare to last year, what do you think?  

 

Fabulous, Fashion, Humor, Movies

And the Award Goes To…

“That’s a bingo!  …Is that the way you say it?  ‘That’s a bingo?'”
“You just say bingo.”
“Ah!  Bingo!  How fun!  But I digress.  Where were we?”
– Inglorious Basterds

Today has been a lovely Sunday, it’s sunny and gorgeous outside, you can smell Spring in the air in spite of the snow on the mountains, J. and I made a to-die-for mac and cheese recipe that had pretentious enough ingredients to make it seem much more difficult than it actually was, and I’m whipping up cookies (plus snacking on kettlecorn as I dash back and forth between the kitchen and the red-carpet interviews, my dedication is being tested…).

I’ll be doing my annual Oscar dress review tomorrow, but let me just say this now:

If Christoph Waltz doesn’t win best supporting actor, I shall be extremely vexed.  And if Avatar wins Best Picture I will lose all faith in Hollywood.  J. wants The Cove to win best documentary.  I want the fabulous Carey Mulligan or divine Sandra Bullock to win best actress but Helen Miren (aka The Queen), the precious Gabourey Sidibe, and the goddess that is Meryl Streep will give them stiff competition.  I think Mo’nique will win best supporting actress (indeed that seems to be the real story of this Oscar Award Season).  I pick Up for best animated feature, The Young Victoria for costume design (might be wistful thinking, I wouldn’t mind Coco Avant Chanel either again based on personal prejudice for Chanel and Audrey Tautou), I pick Katheryn Bigelow for best director for The Hurt Locker (go women!).  The Hurt Locker seems to be the frontrunner for Best Picture.  And I can’t pick a best actor, I’d love to see Morgan Freeman win in this category after a career of famous supporting rolls, and who doesn’t have a soft spot for Mr. Darcy…er…Colin Firth.  And again, not to harp, but GO CHRISTOPH WALTZ!

Any last minute pics out there?  Raging debate?  Big bets?  Do share!

Remember this scene? Better than that whole "plot" of Avatar's.
Fabulous, Fashion, Fun, Humor, Shopping, Work

A Day In The Life (or, Retreat! Retreat!)

“To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy not respectable, and wealthy not rich…this is my symphony.”
-William Ellery Channing

A worthy, worthy goal, my loves, but how is a girl supposed to resist the allure of the fabulousness we endured during our secretaries retreat today?

How can a secretaries retreat be fabulous you ask?  I shall tell you.

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Well, if we MUST...

First of all we went to the local ski town/get-a-way for many of the rich and famous.  We were treated to an incredible suite in an amazing five-diamond winning lodge-style hotel, because the guy who is head of security there used to work for our police department and likes us.  We were given the works!  Valet parking, personally escorted to our rooms, a charming young man sent up to light a fire for us, lunch at the five-star restaurant on the house, and the grand tour of the premises.  He pointed out the various celebrities homes on the neighboring mountain (many of which he’s run security on), walked us through where a certain un-named actress was recently married, took us through the rooms where a past president stayed, gave us several un-repeatable bits of gossip into the lives of some celebrities and dignitaries as he led us through the rooms they occupied, and also told us stories about the incredible lengths they go to in this place to preserve privacy

Sidenote – why oh WHY am I a secretary?!  Why didn’t I go into protocol, start in the government and military circles that revolve around themselves in England and work my way up through the fabulous hotels of London, doing the obligatory stint in the Queen’s service of course, and finishing up in a place where interesting people whirl in and out and ask you for nothing but to keep their secrets?  Whilst leaving five hundred dollar tips!  My only recourse at the point is to somehow break into the world of writing and become one of those interesting people with secrets, I suppose.

Back to our tale!  After being wined and dined, we spent two glorious hours attacking the local outlet stores that include everything from GAP to Coach!  I justified buying myself a few things by buying even more things for other people, knocking a solid three family members off my Christmas-shopping list in an hour.  Completely disregarding the fact that we are still paying off the four new tires currently cushioning my car.  Christmas is coming, and there will be no goose to get fat because C. will have pawned it in desperation.

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Small Dog lives it up.

And believe it or not, we managed to have a lovely meeting in which frustrations were discussed, problems were solved, training was accomplished, and much needed venting got done.  It was glorious.

“Why don’t the guys ever go on retreats like this?” asked Wise as we pulled out our folders, took notes, and stretched our feet luxuriously towards the fire.
“Because they don’t know how to do things properly,” I retorted.  “Peasants.”