VMAs Fug Carpet: Ciara

Because I'm pretty sure having the wind blow away your molting half-skirt is a large disappointment. But then again, my own personal worst-case scenario might be wearing that dress in the first place, especially with shoes that look like I'd been moored to two upended canoes and a top straight from a line of lingerie designed for treadmill-based orgies.

Fug Snake Moan

SAMUEL L.: So listen up, here, Ricci. I'm going to tell it like it motherf***ing IS.

CHRISTINA: What? You don't like the dress? Are you kidding me? I didn't get all dolled up in this awesome fuschia gown just so...

SAMUEL L.: Chill out, Christina, you look great, but I'm going to tell you one thing: It's motherf***ing COLD outside!

CHRISTINA: I know, but seriously, I look totally hot, and I just thought...

SAMUEL L.: Listen, I know you thought, "Oh, Samuel L. is a wacky old mess, showing up in that weird motherf***ing argyle sweater..."

CHRISTINA: It DOES look a little bit like you stole it from the notebook of the Physics Club president, who was designing it for their national competitions.

SAMUEL L.: Did I ask for your motherf***ing input, motherf***er? I don't CARE if you think my sweater looks like it's waiting for some snot-nosed 16-year old motherf***er to go through a gangsta-thermodymanics phase, o-motherf***ing-kay?

CHRISTINA: Uh...

SAMUEL L.: And I don't CARE if you're motherf***ing tired of seeing me with motherf***ing hats on, and I don't EVEN care if my coat looks to you like I think I'm in motherf***ing Wisconsin hunting  motherf***ing deer. You get me?

CHRISTINA: It's... a little help here, anyone?

SAMUEL L.: I'm Samuel motherf***ing L. motherf***ing Jackson, okay? And not only do I wear whatever the motherf**** I want, but I look motherf***ing FINE in it, too, because I am a BAD-motherf***ing-ASS. And what this bad-motherf***ing-ass wants to tell you is, you look COLD in your sleeveless dress with your pink frostnipped frozen face, okay? So maybe you should faux-fur-line that motherf***er, or buy a hat, or a motherf***ing mathlete-quality argyle sweater, before your arms fall off. CAN YOU MOTHERF***ING DIG IT?

CHRISTINA: You know what? You're right. It is cold, and my face is about to freeze off. I can dig it, Samuel L., I motherf***ing CAN!

SAMUEL L.: Damn, girl, watch your language. There's really no call for that kind of talk. Lord! Somebody get this girl some mouth-soap.

Christina Fugci

There is something pleasingly melodramatic about this photograph to me. It's as if Christina Ricci is attending an old-timey ball at which she expected to be the belle -- until, while standing near the bottom of the stairs, she caught sight of her previously plain, unthreatening archrival descending the steps, capturing the attention of every eligible bachelor in the joint by wearing a fabulous, cleavage-tastic dress. Which, naturally, she had recently very quickly adapted from a boring, out-of-style, tacky garment Christina lent her in the hopes of making her nemesis feel stupid. And now, La Ricci is plotting the best revenge, like whether she can make a martini strong enough to sear the ringlets off a bitch.

Then, of course, she remembers that she can easily regain the attentions of the crowd simply by turning sideways:

Fug or Fab: Christina Ricci

Empirically, Christina Ricci is a very cute girl, and I like the cut of the dress. But I'm entirely turned off by the fabric. I am not a fan of light-blue satin that's so shiny you could look down at Earth from the moon and groan, "OW, MY EYES." It feels like that color and that fabric should only be married in the form of slinky pajamas or perhaps a bridesmaid's dress -- which makes me wonder if she's simply trying to salvage gowns she'd already ordered for her aborted wedding to That Dude She Was Engaged To For Like An Hour. I appreciate the nod to recycling, if that's the case, but couldn't she have made some sleepwear? Or perhaps a raft of really nice pillowcases?

Just in case my bias against the material has blinded me, though, I shall throw it to you, Fug Nation:
 

Since this is an opinion site, I suppose I shouldn't have to disclaim that the following is just my opinion. But in this case, I really am guided by one knee-jerk reaction against the material.

Unfug It Up: Christina Ricci

Christina Ricci is as cute as the proverbial button. And I feel like this little dress is ALMOST as cute as she deserves.

But there's something about it that just doesn't quite work for me. It feels like what you'd get if you decided to make a saucy nightgown for the goth-enthusiast who REALLY hates her arms. If it were sleeveless, and had a better defined waist, we might be in business. Or if we chopped two feet off the bottom and wore it with jeans, she might skate by. Or....well, you tell me in the comments. As Elvis once said, don't be cruel. Also, please try the peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwiches. They're DELICIOUS.

Fug or Fab: Christina Ricci

This dress on Christina Ricci is a prime example of something that, for whatever reason, triggered a weird mental association for me and now I can't judge it on its own merits.

First, I thought the sparkly strip looked like the silhouette of a bejewelled bra being flung through the air. Then it evoked the stripe of glitter that appears somewhere different on Mariah Carey's body in every scene of Glitter (because that movie is a bastion of subtlety). And now all I can think of is That F'ing Movie, with horrible Max Beesley playing her love interest and the terrible acting and boring, boring story that's not even FUN-bad but rather merely BAD-bad, except for that one hilarious scene where the video director says, "Is she black? Is she white? I don't know. I need to see more of her breasts." Which I guess brings me back to the bra imagery. Thank you, Glitter, for bringing me full circle at least, even if I can't get back those two hours of my life.

None of which helps me evaluate this.

The Fugdams Family

On the other, Christina looks like a super-villainess called The Black Widow. Although awesomeness and villainy are not mutually exclusive, as any sensible Miss Hannigan sympathizer can tell you. The cape is inane, sure, but something about this photo -- I believe it's the expression on her face, as if to say, "Yes, that's right, my spine is leaking fabric; it's $10 a yard, if you're shopping" -- inspired me to put it to a vote rather than file it away in my mental folder labeled, "Capes: Cracked-out."

Fug or Fab: Christina Ricci and Mandy Moore

CHRISTINA: Oh my God.

MANDY: What, what?

CHRISTINA: You are GIANT.

MANDY: Maybe you're just small. 

CHRISTINA: Maybe, Gargantua, but you are TALL. You are a tall drink of water. Except you're wearing black, so I guess that'd be unfiltered water.

MANDY: Your dress interests me. It's very graceful and interesting, and yet it also looks like my bathtub after a shower, with all the hairs that fell out of my head lying tangled on the porcelain.

CHRISTINA: Poetic, Luke Skyscraper. And yours kind of looks like a cross between Angelina Jolie and Mary-Kate Olsen. With a dash of nightgown. I don't know what to think.

MANDY: I think, somehow, we might BOTH be rocking it.

CHRISTINA: You might be right, Tallda Swinton.

MANDY: Okay, enough with the names, I get it. I'm tall.

CHRISTINA: Seriously. Your legs START practically at my boobs!

MANDY: Let's just throw this to the poll and call it a night.

Fug Racer

[Photo: Splash News]
Bold, and UNWISE. What IS this? Because it can not be what it appears to be: that you stuck your arms haphazardly through Captain Hook's pirate hat, then shoved it down until it covered most of your nipples; then paired it with some lingerie sewn to a skirt made from the sheddings of your dog. IT CAN NOT ACTUALLY BE THAT. Right?