And the award for worst dressed goes to...
Dear First-Time Academy Award Attendees,
Perhaps you have been so busy producing your Oscar-nominated masterpieces that you have been unable to process anything going on in the rest of the world, but for your information, the Academy Awards are a dress-up event! The Brits were of course the worst offenders, they almost always are (something about the constant rain must turn the fashion-conscious side of the brain into complete mush).
Poor Marketa Irglova (winner of best song along with Glen Hansard). You're speech was precious and we're all very delighted that your dreams have come true...yadda, yadda. Um, did you forget to tell the person doing your hair that you were attending the Oscars and not your 4th grade piano recital? I know you were an unknown, sitting in the back, nobody interviewing you, but could you maybe have mentioned to whichever highland cousin was getting you dressed that you were actually performing on stage in front of 1 billion people?!? Surely such exposure warrants a touch more than a few twists of a curling iron that fell out 3 hours before. Some hairspray perhaps? Clearly you and Glen didn't get the memo about the last-minute venue change from McDougal's Pub to the Kodak Theatre. I know y'all are on a shoe-string budget, but you do realize in this country you can rent a tux for $80...I'm nearly certain the producers would have loaned you the cash.
Dear Tilda Swinton,
What the hell is wrong with you?! You have shown up to the most glamorous night in Hollywood wearing nary a stitch of mascara! You are not an attractive woman, your skin is positively translucent, your teeth crooked, and your eyes bugged- you are not the person to go au naturale to an internationally televised event. I know in your native land pasty is a way of life, but even your side of the pond has bronzer. And what's with the Kool-ade orange hair? I really don't understand, is the goal here to make yourself look as unattractive as possible, because if so...congratulations!!
Also, maybe the next time you're nominated for an Oscar you might mention that to your stylist so that she holds some gowns for you and you don't end up grabbing a trash bag as you run out the door, throwing it hap-hazardly about your frame in the limo. Who am I kidding, you drove yourself over in an MG Midget, hence the wrinkled mass of fabric. Again, if you would mention to someone that you are not only nominated but sitting in the front of the auditorium, perhaps they could find you something better than a Hefty bag, or at least take an iron to the damn thing!
The rest of you are off the hook for the moment, so distraught am I over the above offenders. If I recover later today I'll take the hachet to the rest of you.
Perhaps you have been so busy producing your Oscar-nominated masterpieces that you have been unable to process anything going on in the rest of the world, but for your information, the Academy Awards are a dress-up event! The Brits were of course the worst offenders, they almost always are (something about the constant rain must turn the fashion-conscious side of the brain into complete mush).
Poor Marketa Irglova (winner of best song along with Glen Hansard). You're speech was precious and we're all very delighted that your dreams have come true...yadda, yadda. Um, did you forget to tell the person doing your hair that you were attending the Oscars and not your 4th grade piano recital? I know you were an unknown, sitting in the back, nobody interviewing you, but could you maybe have mentioned to whichever highland cousin was getting you dressed that you were actually performing on stage in front of 1 billion people?!? Surely such exposure warrants a touch more than a few twists of a curling iron that fell out 3 hours before. Some hairspray perhaps? Clearly you and Glen didn't get the memo about the last-minute venue change from McDougal's Pub to the Kodak Theatre. I know y'all are on a shoe-string budget, but you do realize in this country you can rent a tux for $80...I'm nearly certain the producers would have loaned you the cash.
Dear Tilda Swinton,
What the hell is wrong with you?! You have shown up to the most glamorous night in Hollywood wearing nary a stitch of mascara! You are not an attractive woman, your skin is positively translucent, your teeth crooked, and your eyes bugged- you are not the person to go au naturale to an internationally televised event. I know in your native land pasty is a way of life, but even your side of the pond has bronzer. And what's with the Kool-ade orange hair? I really don't understand, is the goal here to make yourself look as unattractive as possible, because if so...congratulations!!
Also, maybe the next time you're nominated for an Oscar you might mention that to your stylist so that she holds some gowns for you and you don't end up grabbing a trash bag as you run out the door, throwing it hap-hazardly about your frame in the limo. Who am I kidding, you drove yourself over in an MG Midget, hence the wrinkled mass of fabric. Again, if you would mention to someone that you are not only nominated but sitting in the front of the auditorium, perhaps they could find you something better than a Hefty bag, or at least take an iron to the damn thing!
The rest of you are off the hook for the moment, so distraught am I over the above offenders. If I recover later today I'll take the hachet to the rest of you.
posted by Queenan at 6:01 AM
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