Who are you wearing?

Darlings, we have heard your cries. After the 15th email asking "When are you guys getting to the Oscar fashion stuff?" we knew there was no getting around it. To be honest, we had no idea people would consider the topic such an inevitability. Never "ARE you guys going to talk about the Oscar dresses?" always "WHEN are you going to talk about the Oscar dresses?"

Well kittens, now we're going to talk about the Oscar dresses. Sort of. You see, Lorenzo and Tom looked up from their respective computers last night after the latest such email and said "I guess we have to talk about this." Now don't get us wrong, we have PUH-LENTY to say whenever a starlet walks down a red carpet in borrowed goods. The thing is, there are so many other people out there who do a far better job than we ever could ripping these ho's from their heads to their toes.

So we were talking it out, discussing the various dresses and trying to come up with an angle when we realized that there really wasn't much to choose from in the "What the HELL was she thinking?" category. The red carpet is now an Olympic-level sporting event and women especially are going to be judged and scrutinized to within an inch of their lives. Consequently, the red carpet has also become a major media and marketing event. With all that attention, and in the age where image reigns above all, a cottage industry has arisen which has as its sole purpose the dressing of movie actresses in order to sell themselves as well as the items they're wearing.

Under the weight of all that self-imposed importance, one just doesn't see the crazy-ass fashion disasters that one used to see back in the day - not on the A- and B-list starlets. Oh sure, some composer's wife or costumer (and inevitably, Sally Kirkland) will show up in some execrable thing to provide grist for the entertainment press, but for the most part, all the ladies are floating around in goddess dresses and a couple million dollars worth of ice a piece. How boring. And whose fault is this? Joan Rivers.

It was Joan that invented red carpet commentary as we know it and all the queens and bitches who do it now have her ass to kiss because of it. Her tongue is so sharp and she's so unafraid to go there that she managed to whip two entire generations of actresses into a level of fear that changed the red carpet dramatically and probably forever. Gone are the days when you'd see Barbra Streisand's ass crack or Demi Moore's bicycle shorts. Now it's all drapey, flowy, full-of-yourself high-end prom dresses coupled with vulgar amounts of diamonds. We doubt Joan meant for this to happen, since she has less and less material to work with each year. Now, even the most minor mistakes - like the size of a bow or the shade of blue - are treated as if fashion armageddon has occurred. Frankly, if we're not seeing ass crack or nipples, we can't be bothered.

Oh, alright. Quick rundown: Cate Blanchett: Gorgeous. Flawless, actually. Nicole Kidman: looked like she should be hanging from a Christmas wreath. Jennifer Hudson: thank god some queen took you aside and hissed at you to get rid of the Judy Jetson shrug. Kelly Preston: now THAT's what we're talking about! Cavewoman hooker! Brilliant! Cameron Diaz: used Kleenex (in more ways than one). Helen Mirren: Beautiful, feminine, flattering and age-appropriate. Kirsten Dunst: Sandy Duncan on top, Mae West on the bottom. Very confusing. Jessica Biel: pretty color, smoking bod, but too simple for the red carpet. It looked homemade, honey. Beyonce: While this was admirably toned down, like everything else she wears, it looked slutty, glued together and unflattering. Penelope Cruz: Dramatic, but she looked like a flesh-colored feather duster. Gwynugh Paltrow: Okay, fine. You looked pretty good, bitch. The hair was a bit much and we don't love the color, but you did alright. You can live.

For now. Darlings, we have heard your cries. After the 15th email asking "When are you guys getting to the Oscar fashion stuff?" we knew there was no getting around it. To be honest, we had no idea people would consider the topic such an inevitability. Never "ARE you guys going to talk about the Oscar dresses?" always "WHEN are you going to talk about the Oscar dresses?"

Well kittens, now we're going to talk about the Oscar dresses. Sort of. You see, Lorenzo and Tom looked up from their respective computers last night after the latest such email and said "I guess we have to talk about this." Now don't get us wrong, we have PUH-LENTY to say whenever a starlet walks down a red carpet in borrowed goods. The thing is, there are so many other people out there who do a far better job than we ever could ripping these ho's from their heads to their toes.

So we were talking it out, discussing the various dresses and trying to come up with an angle when we realized that there really wasn't much to choose from in the "What the HELL was she thinking?" category. The red carpet is now an Olympic-level sporting event and women especially are going to be judged and scrutinized to within an inch of their lives. Consequently, the red carpet has also become a major media and marketing event. With all that attention, and in the age where image reigns above all, a cottage industry has arisen which has as its sole purpose the dressing of movie actresses in order to sell themselves as well as the items they're wearing.

Under the weight of all that self-imposed importance, one just doesn't see the crazy-ass fashion disasters that one used to see back in the day - not on the A- and B-list starlets. Oh sure, some composer's wife or costumer (and inevitably, Sally Kirkland) will show up in some execrable thing to provide grist for the entertainment press, but for the most part, all the ladies are floating around in goddess dresses and a couple million dollars worth of ice a piece. How boring. And whose fault is this? Joan Rivers.

It was Joan that invented red carpet commentary as we know it and all the queens and bitches who do it now have her ass to kiss because of it. Her tongue is so sharp and she's so unafraid to go there that she managed to whip two entire generations of actresses into a level of fear that changed the red carpet dramatically and probably forever. Gone are the days when you'd see Barbra Streisand's ass crack or Demi Moore's bicycle shorts. Now it's all drapey, flowy, full-of-yourself high-end prom dresses coupled with vulgar amounts of diamonds. We doubt Joan meant for this to happen, since she has less and less material to work with each year. Now, even the most minor mistakes - like the size of a bow or the shade of blue - are treated as if fashion armageddon has occurred. Frankly, if we're not seeing ass crack or nipples, we can't be bothered.

Oh, alright. Quick rundown: Cate Blanchett: Gorgeous. Flawless, actually. Nicole Kidman: looked like she should be hanging from a Christmas wreath. Jennifer Hudson: thank god some queen took you aside and hissed at you to get rid of the Judy Jetson shrug. Kelly Preston: now THAT's what we're talking about! Cavewoman hooker! Brilliant! Cameron Diaz: used Kleenex (in more ways than one). Helen Mirren: Beautiful, feminine, flattering and age-appropriate. Kirsten Dunst: Sandy Duncan on top, Mae West on the bottom. Very confusing. Jessica Biel: pretty color, smoking bod, but too simple for the red carpet. It looked homemade, honey. Beyonce: While this was admirably toned down, like everything else she wears, it looked slutty, glued together and unflattering. Penelope Cruz: Dramatic, but she looked like a flesh-colored feather duster. Gwynugh Paltrow: Okay, fine. You looked pretty good, bitch. The hair was a bit much and we don't love the color, but you did alright. You can live.

For now.