Imagine my shock when I realized I’d missed the greatest show on earth.
The Red Carpet at the Oscars.
Totally missed the awards show Sunday night…we don’t have cable and I could have followed along online but total mind blank. After downing a couple of glasses of wine to calm my frayed nerves, I clicked over to Huffington Post with my glasses freshly polished.
You imagined my shock…now imagine my disappointment. My internal dialogue went something like this:
“Oh. My. God. No.”
“Wholly fucking Batman.”
“Salma…what were you thinking?”
Repeat. Repeat. And repeeeeat.
This year, the Red Carpet was red for a reason. Shame and embarrassment that ladies normally so put together showed up wearing what they wore. To say that 98 per cent of the gowns looked like they fell off the back of a turnip truck would be an insult to turnips.
Part of the fun of the Oscar Red Carpet is picking out the best-dressed celebrity. Well, scratch that. There wasn’t one. There were two that caught my attention. Jennifer in red…
And Charlize in white.
My usual go-to girls seriously let me down.
Of course, sometimes you can’t even pay through the nose for style. I give Helena credit for grasping that and living through the moment in this.
And then it was too much dress, and not enough woman. Sorry Kristen. It’s time to accept the fact you are not Elle MacPherson. Good things DO come in small packages.
Then the opposite…too much woman and not enough dress. Brandi (with an “i”) should be asking herself why (with a “y”).
Finally, my biggest disappointment of the whole les miserables evening. Somewhere…somehow…some one started the patently false belief that blondes can wear yellow. Blondes cannot wear yellow. Yes, some of you out there are blondes and are screaming at your screen right now, “Yo. Bitch. I too so can wear yellow. I’m wearing yellow right now and people tell me I can wear yellow. So you are SOOOO wrong!”
I will admit that you’d think blondes can wear yellow. Intellectually it just seems right. And when I look at a blonde wearing yellow I really, really almost think it works. But it just doesn’t. Almost is not good enough, Jane. Not for Oscar night.
The guys came off much better. Of course there isn’t much you can do to totally fuck up a tux. Except this:
Quentin, man…I love you like a brother but seriously. Who dressed you? Oh…wait. Never mind. I think she’s standing next to you.
Did you watch the Oscar Awards? Did I miss much?