What I want to know is, does the black part belong to the dress, or is it some crackpot overlay/jacket combo? I suspect it's the former, but the idea of it being a jacket really cracks me up. I don't hate the pattern but that aspect of it is one shove too many toward the cliff's edge.
"Please. I implore you. Remember that I am demonstrably hot and have a fantastic body, and place all blame for this on this dress, which looks like the designer had a fever dream about cremating a wicker chair."
This is so weird that for a second I was like, "Are we SURE that's not Stella McCartney?" But it's not. It's Teresa, wearing a Peter Pilotto dress. And that dress appears to be having either an identity crisis, or a big war with itself. The sleeves don't seem that happy to be there, the rest of the dress seems like it would rather be someplace else, and together, they're wallowing.
Hark, a Geldof. What she's wearing is not as crazy as I've come to expect, but it still doesn't work. This whole event so far is a lot of, "Almost, but... no."
This might be the best of all of it, and I say that KNOWING I'm in a fight with the proportions of that blouse.
No on the shoes, but... man, Christa B. Allen isn't the worst-dressed person at this party, either. How did THAT transpire?
I am having serious difficulty with what's happening to her chest. I have already asked the question once recently about why somebody's nipples need a sleep mask; how is it possible that I'm confronting that again? Is this a thing now? Are people's boobs just really tired right now?