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Showing posts with label Carrie Underwood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Carrie Underwood. Show all posts

Grammy Awards Fug: Carrie Underwood

Carrie Underwood has a habit of showing up at award shows looking like a million bucks on the red carpet and then changing into something that makes her look more like five bucks. Behold:

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Carrie Underwood and her lovely hair showed up at the Today show this morning evidently thinking she was there to play Daisy Mae in an improvised modern-day retelling of Li'l Abner.
This is where I'd try to make a joke about updating the plot of Li'l Abner, but despite having been in it in ninth grade, all I can remember is that we sang a song by the name of "Jubilation T. Cornpone," which will make a fine name for my firstborn child but isn't terribly informative about the rest. However, I do remember finishing every rehearsal thinking, "I hope my family never speaks of this again," so I'm confident that if Ms. Underwood had ever seen Li'l Abner before, she would have stayed far, far away from any country-sweet milkmaid couture that make her an ideal candidate for a role in Dogpatch, U.S.A.
Red Carpet:

American Music Awards Fug Carpet: Carrie Underwood

mean, okay, I'm glad she's not showing off her traditional Bustier-With-Train-Over-Jeans look, and, sure,  her legs look fantastic, but Lil' Miss Before He Cheats here also looks like she's about fifteen seconds away from strapping on ye olde figure skates and showing us all how to perform a proper double axel.
For someone who seems like kind of a classy girl -- she doesn't talk much about her personal relationships in the press, she seems to wear all the appropriate undergarments, and she can certainly wail -- sometimes Carrie Underwood shows up places looking like she just raided Tabitha's Tack-o-Emporium and Ice-Dance Fire Sale:

Fug or Fab: Carrie Underwood

 

I love a good sequined dress. There's an adorable one hanging sadly in my closet because I have no occasion to wear it, and I may have enabled Jessica awhile back into purchasing a really hot one -- which, tragically, she has not had occasion to wear either, because we don't often throw ourselves formal parties and we're not big Los Angeles party girls. We'd generally rather eat red velvet cake -- or drink a Black Velvet, belt out "Black Velvet" in the car, watch Blue Velvet, or gently pet a velvet Elvis -- than contend with any velvet ropes.
One such time might be when you are Carrie Underwood, and you are wearing a dress that Liza Minnelli would employ as a blouse. The angel on my shoulder keeps saying to the devil that's dancing on my collarbone, "But look! It's so shiny and pretty!" And the devil breaks into "New York, New York," at which point the angel mutters something about Lucille Two and how Arrested Development was amazing, and the devil pulls out a photo of David Gest, and suddenly the angel is doing shots of Jim Beam. It's a confusing time.
That said, there are times when the mighty sequin backfires.

Academy of Country Music Awards Fug: Carrie Underwood

You're adorable and in great shape and very young. Now is not the time to dress like you're the headliner on Carnival Cruises' Nifty At Sixty Salute to The Golden Girls as interpreted by someone with a long-term Barry Gibb fetish. You are doing your bum a disservice -- which is not to say that your bum looks bad, merely that your bum would probably prefer to be encased in something less agonizingly cheesy. But maybe the front is better:
Oh, Carrie Underwood. I know I spent years and years railing about your habit of wearing formal shorts to perform, but I have to say, I rather prefer the shorts to this:

Fugly Underwood

It seems that Carrie Underwood up there (it's an old photo; don't worry, she did not trot out the polterwangian pantsuit again) got cranky to TV Guide about the spectre of celebrities throwing public support behind one candidate:
"I lose all respect for celebrities when they back a candidate.... It's saying that the American public isn't smart enough to make their own decisions."

So I guess she's saying celebrities, by dint of being famous, should shut their mouths and clam up and not choose to be activists if there's anything they believe in, JUST because their fame might imply that America is too dumb to have an opinion without them? That seems extreme. Maybe she needs to go back to telling us all how long it's been since she talked to Tony Romo. And yet at the same time, I've rolled my eyes plenty when CERTAIN celebrities start talking about politics. Like, for instance, I know she's a person, too, but I can't bring myself to care what Paris Hilton thinks about the state of the world. I just can't. Ditto Heidi Montag.
We generally don't make a habit of off-topic posts like this, but it's Election Day, and we've been planning to poll you like crazy. So we're going to do things a little differently today -- mixed in with your regularly scheduled fuggings, of course -- and solicit the vote on a few vital issues of the day. Like, say, stuff that comes out of Carrie Underwood's mouth. VITAL.

People's Choice Awards Fug Trial: Carrie Underwood

The prosecution leaps to its feet and screams that this is a bit reminiscent of Sarah Larson's unpopular, shiny water-lilies-esque Oscar gown -- but as if this came from Monet's little-known Crabass Period where he threw a massive hissyfit over having to paint the same damn flowers all the time and rebelled by doing a portrait of the wallpaper in his mother's downstairs powder room. The defense narrows its eyes and points out that Carrie Underwood is seriously pretty and could make just about any old wallpaper look good, then casually asks if the pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive parked out front belongs to the prosecution, and sends a paralegal out to it with key. 
It seems this year's winner of the Needless Multiple Costume Changes award at the People's Choice shindig was Carrie Underwood, who wore a relatively tame three different dresses -- I mean, if this were MTV, she'd have changed 20 times -- and I can't quite decide how I feel about any of them. So let's put her on trial, shall we?

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you Exhibit A:

Grammy Awards Fug Trial: Carrie Underwood

 

The prosecution opens by noting that this looks like what a witch might wear to her local planetarium. Excited, the defense's second-in-command jumps up and announces that this has given him an excellent idea for his child's Science Fair project and asks to be excused. A prosecutor sneers that, if the idea if stomping on empty aluminum cans and then gluing them to a trash bag, then by all means, go, because then the defense will lose the Science Fair too. Dejected, the defender sits down and swigs from a hip flask. The judge holds him in contempt for not using a flask that straps to the ankle, which is more interesting.
Good old Carrie Underwood. No matter what's happening in the world, you can count on her to wear at least three different things on any given awards show night, and generally they all leave me scratching my head and wondering if any of them are secretly cute, or overtly awesome, or obviously evil. It's like I have no fugdar with her. That's why the Fug Justice System exists. Take your seats, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. It's time for Exhibit A in The People vs. Yet More Carrie Underwood Outfits.

Academy of Country Music Awards Fug (And One Fine): Carrie Underwood

It's perfectly pretty, floaty, girly... there's nothing much to say about it, hence my spontaneous nap. I'm not inclined to rave, and I'm not inclined to rant.

But do you see that expression on her face? The pursed-lipped look of barely suppressed amusement, as if she's got a mischievous secret she almost can't keep? There is a reason: Carrie knew what she had in store for us later, and she deliberately lulled us into a false sense of peace. Check it out:
Let's get the good news out of the way: Carrie Underwood -- Queen of the Costume Change -- started the evening in something only offensive in the sense that it incited me to a brief slumber in my seat:

CMA Awards 'You The Jury' Fug: Carrie Underwood Omnibus

 

The prosecution frowns that this mirrored dress mostly eliminates her waist, and reflects the red carpet in such a way that it becomes an artistic interpretation of internal bleeding. The defense snorts that the prosecutors are all a bunch of Crabby McCrabbersons, and puts in a call to some wig vendors to see about replicating this coif, because it's cute, and so is she.  The prosecution wonders if this would've been better at knee length, but quiets down when one of the defense attorneys tries to take a pair of scissors to her jeans in order to prove the point that not EVERYTHING needs to be knee-length, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
It wouldn't be a country music awards gala if Carrie Underwood didn't wear eleventy-four different outfits through the course of the night. So, people of the jury, get comfortable in your chairs and prepare to sift through the evidence to determine whether a crime was committed. You may deliberate in the comments.

Exhibit A:

People's Choice Awards Unfug or Fab: Carrie Underwood

She looks like a rocket who might be about to blast off and then separate in well-choreographed stages. 

That said, I don't think this is heinous. But the out-of-control black overlay does feel a bit like overkill. Not gilding a lily, necessarily, because the plain strapless shift underneath it doesn't seem so remarkable that it didn't need embellishment. It's more like... catching the first fifteen minutes of Mantracker one day and then getting sucked into the whole episode because WHY does that woman keep SCREAMING every time she senses he is near, and then suddenly seven hours later, you've finished a Mantracker marathon and it's too late to go get dinner so you're stuck making a meal out of a can of Corned Beef Hash and a jar of olives. 

How would you change it -- if indeed you'd change anything at all? Ditch the overlay and add a flashy midriff-cinching accessory (some people call them belts)? Keep the overlay but cut it so that it skims the dress and doesn't have flaps? Scrap the outfit altogether and just wear the giant rock on her finger? Hey, I'm sure she was tempted.

Grammys Fug Weekend 'You The Jury': Carrie Underwood

Well, she didn't change clothes five times like she does at all the country music shows, but thank God we do have three Carrie Underwood ensembles to chew on from this year's Grammys and its related shindigs. Want to file into the jury box and look impassive while the lawyers present their arguments? Y'all are welcome to deliberate in the comments as well.

The prosecution opens by pointing out that the neckline of this dress makes Carrie look like she's hunched, but the defense is ready: It posits that the unusual bodice is the only reason anyone is discussing this dress at all, and that it's very creative and fun. The prosecution counters that this might be better without the horizontal bit that looks like she has been lassoed, and suggests this is what enslaved vestal virgins are wearing in the court of the galactic emperor in 2314, and when the defense is all, "How would you KNOW THAT," the prosecution shrugs and then makes a big show of looking for the keys to the office DeLorean. The defense pouts that it's super cool and she's hot so WHATEVER.  But the prosecution isn't done; it yawns that it's sick of white on the red carpet, and blames Kate Hudson. The defense objects, nothing that people are also generally sick of Kate Hudson herself, and contends that opposing counsel is only invoking that name to instill in the jury an annoyed feeling that will create unfair bias. The judge instructs the jury to ignore any feelings of ill-will toward Kate Hudson, no matter how overrated Almost Famous and all of her ensuing performances have been. The prosecution leaps up to insist that How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days is secretly kind of okay, but the judge bangs the gavel and decrees Kate Hudson to be seriously off-topic and irrelevant here unless we are discussing show-stopping yellow dresses, actresses who date athletes and whether their genitals sup on the players' abilities, or the Please Leave Owen Wilson Alone online fan club
EXHIBIT A: Red Carpet

Fug or Fab: Carrie Underwood

The weird thing is, I had zero feelings about this one way or the other.  Nil. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Do I like white jeans? No, not really. Ditto white shoes. Do I love the chains on the jacket? Eh, they're not my thing, but they don't anger me, either, in this instance. One e-mail called it an "astronaut tribute to Michael Jackson," but I keep looking at this photo and going, "Huh. Maybe? I'm bored." Which in a way is exactly what it should be: The star of the show ought to be The Star Spangled Banner, and not a pair of pants made of cheese, or a four-foot tall weave, or blood spurting from all major orifaces in an attempt to create performance art about the fight for independence. But I also would never wear this if I were singing the National Anthem, because a) I would need theatrics to distract from my singing voice and notable lack of range (I suspect I am a baritone), and b) I would exit stage right and immediately spill beer, pretzel mustard, and hot dog crease all over my lap. (Side note: I thought Carrie did a nice, classy, restrained job, RIGHT up until that bad note at the end -- I think holding the correct note on "free," which hardly anyone does because it's so hard and which I thus think was awesome of her, wrecked her throat and so she blew the very last note. Still, I'll take it. Thank you for not rewriting the song's score to be more about you, Carrie. Seriously. I hate when people do that. It's the National Anthem, not a song on your record, fools.)

And with those charming, super helpful thoughts out there to guide you, I put this to you:
The morning after the Super Bowl, we were inundated with requests to fug the hell out of Carrie Underwood's National Anthem performance outfit.

Fug Madness 2010, Round One: Bjork Bracket

6) CARRIE UNDERWOOD vs. (11) FABIOLA BERACASA
At the time, I wondered whether Carrie was keeping Sleeve on a leash, or vice-versa. Almost a year later, I still have no answers. Only questions. And confusion. My brow is like, "SLOW DOWN, Underwood, you could grate cheese on my furrows."
And yet, Carrie's Bring Your Arm To Work Day matchy-matchy white nonsense is being met bravely by some resplendently nutty offerings from socialite Fabiola Beracasa:
Whenever we see a celeb wearing giant sleeves, I often wonder what they've got up them; in Carrie's case, it was a high Fug Madness seeding that was secreted up this billowing white arm-bugle:

CMT Awards Red Carpet: Carrie Underwood

I so badly wanted this to end in bellbottoms encrusted with crystals in the shape of flamingoes. Alas, I did not get my wish:
We got a lot of e-mails and Tweets about this outfit, and when I saw this close-up, I was like, "Sweet SPF 75, this is a bucket of deep-fried wack with crackslaw and mashed WTF."

Carrie Fugderwood

1) Dear Carrie Underwood: Since when are you Jenny Humphrey? Are you aware of where that rabbit hole leads? Please advise.

2) Dear Taylor Momsen: I call this "halfway." Please meet me there. I'll bring sandwiches.