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Monday, March 8, 2010

OOOF!! THOSE POUFS!!

The Oscar Run is over, the votes were tabulated and a whole bunch of brand new gold statuettes are shining on the mantelpieces of last night's winners.

While some may be analyzing the incredible upset for Best Director and Best Film -- the victorious Katherine Bigelow (Hurt Locker) versus her ex-husband James Cameron (Avatar) -- for the foreseable future, I'm planting this one right out there today while the memory is fresh.

What was up with those pouffy dresses?

I mean, Vera Farmiga looked like she was being attacked by giant, undulating fuschia mushrooms. They began at her feet and stopped somewhere along her clavicle, and I was on pins and needles because I thought it wouldn't be long before they devoured her arms and head, too.


As if Farmiga's dress wasn't cartoonish enough,  Zoe Saldana looked like the creators of her ensemble ran out of fabric dye somewhere in the process.  And what was going on around the hemline, if you can find the hemline? The only thing missing in the whole shebang is a hat with fruit piled on top.  This was, by the way, from the creative director of Givenchy, who once dressed the likes of Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly and Jackie-O. Brrrr.

What really kills me is that these are very high profile women who because of that profile are sought out by designers to sport their wares. The gowns, the jewelry, the hair and the makekup are carefully thought out by stylists, people like Rachel Zoe who make it their business to make others look good. 

So there you are on the famous red carpet -- surrounded by movie legends now and the ghosts of movie legends of long ago. As an actor this is your moment to shine both professionally and physically.  And this is the best you can do?

It should not take much to figure out how to do the red carpet right.  I have one piece of advice: Helen Mirren. The woman is the bomb, and not the one from the Hurt Locker.

While I am at this, let me say one other thing: what  was Antonio Banderas thinking?

Amen, and pass the mustard.

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