
The problem with wearing something that's slung so loosely in front of a very specific private region of your body is that if you shift around in your seat, everything shifts with you. And I do mean everything.

And then nobody stops tape and tells you, "Um, Kristen, I don't know how to say this exactly, but your underboob has made a cameo tonight."

So it all just keeps rolling and creasing and peeking and gaping until we're scared to trust your netting beyond this exact point.

Then again, how can we trust that netting at ALL when it creases right during a pivotal moment involving Ryan Lochte and his medal haul? This dress is a jerkface.

This dress, I can't decide about -- I love the neon and I think the pattern is actually quite cool, but the execution is boxy on her. Cutting off the flaps at the shoulders would be a start, and I'd consider eighty-sixing the pockets as well and replacing them with a waistband-type detail that either purports to nip things in there or actually DOES it.

On the one hand, it's charming that this may as well have been something she did by herself in the bathroom mirror, while Dax held up one behind her head and was all, "Yeah, it's pretty straight, sure." On the other: Save yourself some muscle burn and get your hair done in a salon, girl. Nobody would fault you. We'll talk it through in the elevator, okay? Let's just make sure it only gets stuck between the first and second floors, though, so that we're not wasting any precious time being afraid we'll freefall.
