
Katy here is really going through a granny panty phase. She's also apparently going through a ripped-skirt smoking phase, although I don't even know if you can call that a rip in her skirt. It's more of a run. Because that "skirt" looks like it's made from a stretched-out pair of very cheerful tights. Like her body is a bank robber. A bad one.

Why yes, that IS a neon bra and panty ensemble. Well, I suppose it could be a swimsuit and cover-up (as could Katy's, I guess). But come on, girl. It's a cricket ground when it's not a musical commune. There is no poolside cabana.

Her boyfriend Afrojack is looking at her, all, "Pocahontas, huh? Sure, I'll poke your hontas, HA HA HA," which is completely inappropriate of me and I apologize to history.

I have no words.

Something tells me that if the real Nic Cage had shown up, he'd be delighted that the cardboard cutouts of him circulating during one performance were of one of his better hair days.

Those shorts are about two more washes away from becoming underwear. I am therefore torn: encourage her not to wash them, for propriety's sake, or hope that once she does, she is able to recognize when they cross over into Glorified Crotch Sling territory.

I feel like the only other person who would wear those pants sincerely is David Silver.

Figures that Nina freaking Dobrev would look as cool and collected as if she were at a polo match or a shopping mall. This specific photo is just for the people who might want to watch her canoodling with her boyfriend. I guess that makes me an enabler.

Melrose here was on Top Model. Since then she has apparently only gotten work as a really low-budget Easter bunny for tardy egg hunts.

Well, at least she can clean the mud off her pants with one easy swipe of the sponge.

This picture amuses me also. It's not actually that weird of an ensemble, and yet he's also carrying it off like he fancies himself an urban Ichabod Crane. I wish he'd brought a horse.

It seems cruel to make a band called Grace Potter and the Nocturnals play during the blazing heat of day. Maybe she wasn't expecting it, either; hence the fancy robe that I think she may have borrowed from Vanessa Hudgens.

If she's not careful, Austin Butler might get confused and try to take her home.

Because you can NEVER have enough sunglasses.

How is it possible that Rihanna, of all people, ended up looking kind of... regular? I hope the denim coat was hiding some kind of unspeakable fashion tragedy, or else I'll wonder if I wandered through a rogue portal.
