Worst in Show
Three quarters of the Style Council — Steffie, Linda and Caroline — gathered at our friend Mr. Hollywood’s house to watch the awards, while Lina wired in her dispatches from home, and we culled the “eek!” from the “chic.” Here is our commentary. . . .
She was seen hunching all over the red carpet. Her spine was bending it like Beckham.
For the first hour all you saw was Jessica Alba. Jessica Alba applying lip-gloss, Jessica Alba chewing gum, Jessica Alba, boobs smaller than you would think. . . . Whatever with Jessica Alba.
Please stop working out. Please, put down the free weights. You don’t have breasts anymore, you have pecs . . .
Obscenely plunging neckline. Sternums are really not that sexy.
She looked like she was going to a goth-themed high school prom.
A bizarro dress. She and Stuart Townsend might have broken up like three seconds before she walked down the red carpet. Was that a tumor on her shoulder?
It looked like anyone who’d hug or even brush against her might risk injury or, at the very least, some serious scratches.
Watts up? Did you borrow that dress from Björk? Get yourself together, girl. Look at Michelle Williams. That’s how you keep a man.
What is Tim Burton doing to you? She looked like his corpse bride.
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