Fug Lively

I quite liked The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Which makes sense: I love my sisters, I love traveling, and you know how strongly I feel about pants. It had everything. Plus, it was well-acted, I laughed, I cried, and I envied Blake Lively her pretty, pretty spun-gold hair.




I do not, however, envy her wardrobe.

For one thing, her hair needs a good brushing, some roots work, and some anti-frizz, and Blake should never again accept makeup advice from a woman in spandex named Kitten, because Kitten's red lipstick is on her face for a whole different purpose.

Most gravely, though: A girl who starred in a movie about the magic of pants should respect the mighty trouser by pairing it with a shirt that is cute, or at least, that is not this one. The cascade of apples itself, while twee, isn't as off-putting as the enormous shiny belt strapping down her ribs, which not only seems a tad unnecessary -- her ribs aren't going anywhere, at least not until she joins with the rest of Hollywood and gets a few removed -- but also underlines the already somewhat unflattering contours of the shirt itself. Doesn't she look supremely bloated? A touch pregnant, even? And, look, we've all been there -- well, the bloated part, anyway, although there was a woman on I Want To Be A Soap Star who claims she came down with just a very mild and practically nonexistent case of pregnancy; I think I love her -- and we all know that on the days when we're retaining water like it's the best divorce lawyer in town, we should perhaps adjust our wardrobe accordingly.

You Know You Fug Me

You Know You Fug Me


Of all the new shows slated for fall, I think I might most be excited about Gossip Girl. The books are a delightful guilty pleasure - like an even soapier Sweet Valley High, but with way more sex and drugs and swearing and name-dropping and monkeys-- and everyone knows that Josh Schwartz can pull off at least one awesome season of a soapy teen drama, before devolving into meta-statements via comic books and cage-fighting (okay, the cage-fighting was kind of awesome).



The stars of the show look JUST as stoked as I am, no?

Hmmm. Maybe Taylor Momsen just looks cranky because her stylist decided to make her look as beige and monochromatic as possible, or maybe the panel has somehow gotten around to talking about how -- while she's obviously a really cute girl -- she's a very strange casting choice for the role of Jenny Humphrey, whose very (she feels overly) ample breasts, curly brown hair and intense adolescent distress at not being petite and blonde are mentioned about ninety times per book. Momsen is adorable in her own right, obviously, but it's sort of like casting Britney Spears as Mother Theresa.

On the other hand, Blake Lively here seems like an excellent choice for blonde goddess, Serena, while the actress whose name I always forget (....Leighton Meester! Thank you, IMDb) looks just smug enough for the role of Blair, and seems as charmingly shifty and plotty as Blair is, seeing as she's somehow gotten her counterpart here to attach a miniaturized cream window treatment to her bosom:

I likewise appreciate that the actors playing the adults in the series are out of focus and in the background, as they should be in a teen drama. Remember how boring it was every time 90210 tried to get us to care if Cindy Walsh had an affair? Can't we learn from that?

I also can't wait until the series premieres, and I hate everyone I thought I'd love and have to eat all my words and end up starting TaylorMomsenIsPerfectAsJenny.com

FugO, FugO, Gossip Girl

I'm not opposed to a good love triangle when it's done right -- why, hello, Brenda/Dylan/Kelly! -- but as fans of the Gossip Girl books know, the TV series has drawn its characters just differently enough that the entrance of dreamy Dan's "best friend" Vanessa has been pretty unwelcome. In the books, she's kind of punky and cool, he's moody and pretentious, and Serena isn't as grounded; in the show, though, Dan and Serena are mostly adorable, and so being asked to swallow a duller incarnation of Vanessa is a bit like washing down your cheesecake with a glass of curdled milk.




And of course, in life, it's kind of hard to follow Blake Lively no matter WHO you are. She's so pretty.

Even when she's evoking a special performance of "You're The One That I Want" as costumed by the late Fred Rogers, Blake makes it all look very cool and comfortable, as if she could as easily wear this out to the video store as to a party. It's not quite my favorite outfit, but by and large it works on her and she elevates it into something more interesting than its component parts.

So the deck was kind of stacked against poor Jessica Szohr, who, in addition to playing second fiddle to Serena on Gossip Girl, on this night was also fifth chair in the clarinet section while Blake nailed her solos. Check it:

Fug the Cover: Blake Lively

Good morning Upper East Siders,

Just down grabbing a latte and spied a certain blonde bombshell looking, shall we say, less than on the cover of a magazine you probably stopped reading in seventh grade. Even the haters -- and S has a few -- have to admit that she's irritatingly gorgeous in person, like an certain Marc Jacobs bag I've been visiting at Barney's. The question is, then, who over at Hearst has it in for our golden girl? She couldn't possibly look this bad without serious technical intervention. Is it possible that one of the magazine's newest interns (let's call her V), who has made it her mission this summer to make life hard for S as possible, called in a certain favor with a publishing exec who will never forget an afternoon spent with V in the coat closet of a particularly boring Hamptons pool party? You know I'll never tell.



xoxo



Gossip Girl

Fug or Fab: Blake Lively

Lately, it seems like everyone is wearing either an Herve Leger bandage dress, or a loving imitation of the iconic style -- you know, the one that really does look like you sucked in your gut and then let someone mummify you in a variety of brightly colored wrappings. They're often super cute dresses on their own, but after seeing a string of tiny actresses wear them with mixed success at Fashion Week and hearing several of them chirp something about how absolutely anyone can wear these, I have to say: Really? Are you sure? Because they seem pretty unforgiving to me.

Of course, it doesn't help her that those dark triangles are all conspiring to make sure we stare at her womb. What's next? A version that has a big sign on the back that says, "HEY, CAN YOU SEE MY PANTY LINE? NO, SERIOUSLY, CAN YOU? WILL YOU PLEASE LOOK HARDER?" But regardless: This is Blake freaking Lively. She has one of the most enviable figures in the land. She's perfect the way she is and can look beautiful in a tangerine maxi-dress that would make most people afraid of the Tropicana company coming to juice them. In fact, Blake doesn't even necessarily look BAD in her Herve Leger, especially from the boobs up; however, I would argue that it's not doing lower curves any particular favors either, and maybe even widens her unfairly.

So if THIS genetically gifted specimen isn't receiving many favors from her bandage dress, there must be zero hope for the rest of us. In fact, I think those front-row Hollywood starlets -- hang onto your hats -- might have been LYING.

The Sisterhood of the Fuggeling Pants

How ironic that the girls who could most use a pair of magical, thought-free, perfect-fitting pants are in fact the stars of a movie about a pair of magical, thought-free, perfect-fitting pants.




First up: Blake Lively, who -- let's get this out in the open right now -- is wearing a romper. And yet, despite my distaste for rompers, I almost let her slip by since she seemed to look so generally (and comparatively) adorable.



Almost.

Are we sure this wasn't a dress that she stapled to her underwear so that she wouldn't flash anyone? I realize that putting metal prongs that close to your promised land is not for the faint of heart, but I'm not sure how else to explain the unsightly bunching. Or, perhaps it's that I don't WANT to understand it, because there is no explanation that doesn't make me wince. I guess the bright side is, she has awesome legs to distract people from the crotch crater; hey, when your romper has cleaved to your inner thigh, there had better be SOME kind of silver lining.

New York Fugshion Week: Day Three

When I noted that Blake Lively wore an unfortunate jumpsuit to last night's Miss Sixty show, I was NOT KIDDING:

Next stop: Chico's. But for real. If Blake Lively can't wear those, WHO CAN? Also, are they...cargo-y? Hold me. And then, while you're stoking my hair, you can read about the crazy behavior I saw that this show above and beyond ye old jumpsuit.

We kicked off our Sunday with a Mermaids reunion at DNKY, when Cher was seated next to Jake Ryan. By which we mean, "when Christina Ricci was seated next to Winona Ryder," which, honestly, is almost as good. And Nicole Richie was there! And PETA stormed the runway! It was pretty awesome, actually.

Next, we tackled the world of the bandage dress at Herve Leger, and had an unexpected brush with death. At the hands of Rosario Dawson, of all people. Well, inadvertently.

Once we recovered from almost dying, we ran downtown to hang out with Vincent Gallo. Unbeknownst to him. Also seen at Y3: calf-length, mesh man-dresses. Pick up one for your boyfriend today!

And because we, like Vanessa L Williams, like to save the best for last, we closed out our weekend with the sartorial stylings of Justin Timberlake at William Rast. Complete with bonus buckets of beer!

New York Fugshion Week: Day Oh My God, We're So Close To Being Able To Put Up Our Feet (So, Six)

Let's see....what happened yesterday? We did not end up stuck in an elevator with Anna Wintour. (If this happens, I plan to talk to her about tennis.) We did not talk our ways into a cameo on Gossip Girl (I want to play the crafty blogger who makes out with Chuck as a way to help him make Blair jealous). We did not trip out of our high heels and land in the laps of any luminaries. However, we did see this:

XFugXFug, Gossip Fug

A number of readers have written this morning to express concern for Blake Lively, who evidently failed to impress last night in her chosen ensemble. In order to tackle its assorted issues, I thought I'd put her triphasic outfit on trial.

The prosecution sneers at the semi-haphazard layering on display and gears up for a rousing chorus of "You've Got To Pick A Pocket Or Two." But before it can burst into song, the defense jumps in to point out that it was probably somewhere in the low 60s in New York last night, so the layers may have had an actual purpose. The judge sustains that objection and the defense celebrates with a kick-line.

Exhibit A: Arrival.

Fug Madness 2010, Round Two continued: Madonna Bracket

Little J, pantless.

Garter belts as outerwear:

So what else is new?

Met Ball Fug Carpet: Blake Lively

By the way things are going, when the 2011 Met Ball rolls around, I fully expect Boobs Legsly here to show up wearing solely a bikini and a real expensive pair of shades.

Fugsip Girl Goes To Paris

When we last left Blair Waldorf and Serena Van Der Woodsen, they were planning to spend the summer in Paris -- exactly what all civilized people do when they're 19 and their boyfriends just slept with an underage twig/sort of made them sad (or whatever; I can't remember any of Serena's storylines anymore).

Yep, this seems about right: Blair in three distinct loud patterns, one of which involves a metaphor for purity (which I feel like Blair would decide she went to Paris to find); Serena in a hat older gentlemen used to wear to the races, a cardigan over a pretty basket-weave dress that shows off plenty of leg, and shoes older gentlemen used to wear to the races. Very Blair-and-Serena, very appropriate for two Upper East Siders who think they are taking Europe by storm with their leg muscles and utter maturity, and easy-breezy enough to trick me into thinking I want some of it even though it would not work. At all.

Serena, however, has some serious fashion trials ahead, if this photo is to be believed:

Fug or Fab: Blake Lively

Although I must confess, this is essentially how I always imaged Dawn from The Babysitters Club looking, although obviously Serena is more like Stacey than Dawn. But you feel me: it's very 1980s Young Adult Novel Set at the Beach up in here, much like my personal favorite BSC book in which a whole bunch of them are hired to be nannies during someone's vacation and basically everyone has Summer Romances and whatnot and people get sunburned and children are probably semi-neglected and there's a hamburger joint where the ketchup and mustard come PRE-MIXED. (Apparently, I don't remember it THAT well, and yet of course I remember some weird food-related detail) It's PERFECT for the climax of that sort of book, where, you know, it's the 80s and there's some big party and Truths Are Revealed and Loves Are Confessed and all that hoo-ha. Perfect for then.

Fugrena Van Der Woodsfug

LEIGHTON: Hey, everybody! Hi! We love our fans!




BLAKE: Watch Gossip Girl!

LEIGHTON: And don't blame B here for this!



BLAKE: What do you mean, L?



LEIGHTON: Well, I'm just saying, you didn't do this to yourself. Last season, you were put in a bunch of unflattering clothes, and now this season you're in some shorts that are hitting you in an awkward spot.



BLAKE: What? They're Daisy Dukes!



LEIGHTON: Daisy Pukes. If you're going to go short, please at least make it look right.



BLAKE: Well, at least my tights don't fight with my dress.



LEIGHTON: Is that the best you have, sweetie?



BLAKE: Um... your dress looks like you were shot in the gut with a glitter grenade?



LEIGHTON: Better, but not accurate, because it's funky. So let's be honest: I still win.



BLAKE: And I still have these legs.



LEIGHTON: ... Okay, it's a tie.

Fug or Fab: Serena Van Der Woodsen

So, up is down and down is up on the Upper East Side. Blair Waldorf came home from Paris in strapless jumpsuits, Chuck Bass is primed to give lectures about how and where to dip your pH stick, and apparently Serena is having a Chico's kind of day:



I want to think it's fabulously over-the-top and full of voluminous goodness, but there is a very loud part of my brain that wonders if she thinks the dawning of the Age of Aquarius refers to the departure of a sexagenarian mogul's yacht in St. Tropez.

The Fug Lantern

As the finest actor of our generation, Joey Lawrence, might say: WHOA.

I mean...whoa. And I can't help thinking, if eyes are the window to the soul, and this shirt is the window to her cleavage -- and not just a regular old window, like a full-on bay window, framed neatly and needing only a nice set of venetian blinds to completely recall the office window I am currently sitting in front of, although the view through my window is of the trees and the view through this one is MEGA BOOBS -- than to what is Blake's prodigious and shiny cleavage the window? Some might vote that her cleavage is the window to the answers of the universe, some might opine that it is the window to the end of her stylist's sanity, but whatever it is, I hope it holds the answers to how to make this upcoming season of Gossip Girl better than the last one.

Fug or Fab: Blake Lively

You know, for all our old-crone squawking about Boobs Legsly here, I must admit that I rather like the kid. Behind all my, "OMG PUT IT AWAY GIRLFRIEND" pearl-clutching, I do think she's quite pretty and she seems like a very nice girl -- no scandals, no pop songs, no spray tan product lines, anyway, and that's certainly refreshing. As is the lack of Massive Cleavage in her look last night:

On the other hand, this is essentially a tweed mini-skirt and an alarmingly brief crop top patched into a dress with the help of a sheer panel. I find it simultaneously cute and totally crazy, kind of like Paula Abdul.

Well Played, Boobs Legsly

Figures. Just when I get attached to a really immature nickname, the person to whom I gave it decides to flout my childish impulse.

Boobs here manages to look both sexy and stunning without rubbing the camera lens in her cleavage, nor setting a maximum skirt length of two inches. Looking at her, I see a pretty girl -- with hair I wish I could re-style, but whatever -- rather than hearing the gentle A-HOOOOOGA that heralds a cartoon character's eyeballs momentarily taking leave of their sockets.

Let's take a closer look, just because we can:

Fug or Fab: Blake Lively

KARL: Pet. You seem ill at ease.





BLAKE: I just don't feel like myself.





KARL: Selves are just shoes we line with odor insoles. KICK.





BLAKE: I just don't know why it has to BE this way.





KARL: Because we made a decision.





BLAKE: Who did?





KARL: I and your rapacious lady medallions. The ones who treat every day like a prison break.





BLAKE: Oh, right. So... um, what did you two... uh, three... talk about?





KARL: How life is a tussle, so shank to win.





BLAKE: ... And?





KARL: And we've decided to muzzle them, dearest.





BLAKE: Is that why I look like I'm squished into a very pretty, but very stiff, straitjacket?





KARL: Do not be hamstrung by sight. FEEL.





BLAKE: Yeah, well, I FEEL kind of like I'm itchy and choking.





KARL: Itching is for the poor, darling. Don't scramble your nest egg for brunch.





BLAKE: I probably don't eat brunch.





KARL: Too bad. Because brunch is nature's mid-morning ointment. SLATHER.





BLAKE: ... Amen?





KARL: Yes. But Mass can't end until there are crudités.





BLAKE: That sounds sacrilegious.





KARL: Is is when there's pate involved.





BLAKE: Never mind.



Say it loud:

I LOVE that dress. I love the dress, but SHE seems like she doesn't quite know how to feel about it. I LIKE the dress, but it does kind of look like a classy chest tourniquet. Eh. It's not my taste.