
Truly, a lid that SURELY was the enemy of doorways was a spectacular choice. But to me, the best part is, if she eats a hot dog and gets the condiments all over herself, no one will notice.

Cyndi also brought her son with her to the night-before party, at which she drifted away from "beach hut" and more toward "cocktail umbrella." I also feel like Katy Perry may also own those pants. Which is neither here nor there. Just a feeling. My fugly sense is tingling.

ALMOST THERE. I want to nip up the hem a little. And... is it just me, or does the bodice look like it should be the logo for some kind of exuberant foreign-language TV network for women?

The night before, at the Barnstable Brown gala, she wore this (and yes, she did bring her beau/on-screen love interest Josh Dallas). It's... you know, it might be fine. But severe hair plus severe facial expression tends to be an impenetrable combination when it comes to judging the rest of a look. I just can't get past it.

This is even less flattering than the accessory walls she keeps wearing on Smash.

Apparently, her hat was sponsored, because there's a raft of photos captioned, "Debra Messing wears GREY GOOSE Cherry Noir Vodka-Inspired Hat." Does this mean that if I drink GREY GOOSE Cherry Noir Vodka, I will be inspired to make limply patriotic floral arrangements, or that the hat designer got drunk on cherry noir martinis and woke up the next morning with a finished product?

Dearest Tinsley, your hair is too Kelly Taylor circa That Last Terrible Season, when it was all chunky stripes. The dress is cute, the tan is extreme (hasn't she been watching The Tanning Bed Mom Chronicles? Or is she auditioning for the inevitable Lifetime retelling?), and the hat is kind of fun even though it hides most of her head.
Sigh. I remember EONS ago, when Jess and I were first starting out covering Fashion Week for NY Mag, when people cared (or so we thought) about who these socialites were. If you had told them all back then that, in 2012, people would care more about a posse of squalling, squawking, table-hurling idiots called Housewives whose mission is to make sure every corner of America has a section of rich and clinically annoying attention-whores, they... well, they probably would've been like, "Break me off a piece of THAT," but still. You feel me. Socialites lost their moment before they ever really had it, and now we're stuck with Kelly Bensimon and whoever the Atlanta people are and a bunch of lips from California. I am not sure which is better/worse...

Cute, but I enjoy that her legs appear to be an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT COLOR than they were the following day at the actual Derby. Somebody got a little overzealous in her hotel bathroom. Or, it has terrible lighting. Perhaps she should complain to management, and use herself as Exhibit A.

Respectable! I imagine his mother being kind of like Mrs. Weasley, constantly longing to lick her fingers and smooth down Aaron's (or Harry Potter's) spiky hair that simply won't lie flat.

This is... fine? Like most times she wears a strapless gown, though, it seems to be sinking on her a little. And the gray patch there looks more random than anything, like it's there to fill a hole rather than because the designer really wanted to say something important about hemlines.

This seems to fit her better. I also realized recently that I somehow got really invested in her and Blake Shelton as a couple. I think it was a combination of him being amusing on The Voice and her being very sassy on Twitter. Either way, I'm on board. Stick it out, kids.

You might remember Sharni Vinson from Step Up 3. You might remember Kellan Lutz from that barbershop quartet that delivers newspapers and sings all the headlines. They're called Croonsies. Or Tunesies? Oh dear. I am second-guessing my musical Newsies wordplay.

He kept it simpler at this event. Somehow, at both, she managed to look like she was going to the beach. A really dressy one, but a beach nonetheless. Like the Beverly Hills Beach Club before those riffraff Walshes from Minnesota got a cabana.

Simple, but effective. The wedges are kind of a snore, but since she was probably staring down a day of being on her feet tromping all around the racetrack plonking down bets and waiting in food lines, I can sympathize. Then again, I am pretty sure someone would have offered her a spot with waiters and betting lackeys.

Mary J. sang the national anthem, so that's likely why she went with such a heavy rose motif. I sort of love the toughness her natural attitude brings to such a girly, satiny red outfit -- like, she is both the blossom AND the thorn. And, as the philsopher Bret Michaels once said, all roses have them. Might as well own it.

I love that Star Jones showed up looking like one of the Musketeers.

Former Cowboys cheerleader/LA news personality/current Lakers front-office employee/whatever else Bonnie-Jill Laflin apparently decided to go as Musketeer No. 2. Unfortunately, they didn't leave enough pieces of flair for the third one to make a hat. Lousy teamwork there.

LOOK WHO'S DRESSED.

Very summery. Also, I read on PEOPLE that Erin Andrews was allegedly checking out Ashton Kutcher at the Barnstable Brown gala. ERIN. RESTRAIN YOURSELF. I mean, I'm not saying the Demi thing was all his fault, but he certainly seemed to be on a douchecapade shortly thereafter, so maybe let him get it all out of his system.

I think Kate looks delightful. She makes me wish I'd gone, plopped down next to her, and gossiped about which horses had the best names/which bartender made the strongest drinks/hat dealers, and what it's like to have John Krasinski sign your pelvis.

Ladies and gentlemen, he's still got it. JAZZ HANDS.

Okay, okay, we get it. You can turn it down, Mugsy Malone.
