I LOVE this on her. Love, love, love. She's the belle of the matadors' ball. If I had to pick a nit, it would be that by and large I don't like white pumps, but even that doesn't bother me so much in this particular instance. Somehow they manage not to glare too badly.
And then he feels like the villain who's going to tie her to the train tracks, and/or put two of her hairs and one of her blister pads into a cauldron so he can make a potion that steals her essence. I hope he cackled. You cannot wear this outfit and not cackle.
You know how annoying it is when you get all zipped into your clothes and then realize you forgot deodorant? PROBLEM SOLVED.
I love this in theory, but somehow the sequin layout looks more like it's molting than anything else. I feel like I'm peeking into her underbelly.
Foxy.
It's as if she wants us to believe her erogenous zones are in bloom.
I fear that skirt is a urinary accident.
I would like to try clipping off the sleeves. But mostly, I'd like a do-over on her head, which was just at Hot Yoga.
Yes, you're seeing this correctly: You can only see half of the cummerbund. And no, her purse is not hypo-allergenic.
This is giving me a hankering for a Brooke Shields cameo on Mad Men. I mean, if SHE had been Sylvia Rosen... yes. (The worst thing about Sylvia Rosen is that I can't tell if I was SUPPOSED to hate her -- if her very banality and annoyingness was a fact in the show's universe and said Important Psychological Things about Don -- or if it was an accident.) That said, this is a bunched-up mess. Thank God it has a cape. It's totally the milk-chocolate cousin to Gwyneth's Tom Ford Oscars cape, and I feel like Brooke Shields could've pulled it off if the rest of it were lying properly.
I love that these two are pals. If I can't be the meat in that sandwich, I'd settle for being the lettuce.