
We begin, AS DID THE MILLENNIUM, with the Michael Jackson sequins on Bjork's skirt. It's bad. It's bad. Really, really bad.
What is she DOING.
Gah, and what is SHE doing? I blame Pat Field. That's fair, right? But seriously, this proves sheers had been done before the recent surge, and were bad back then, too. Why are we regurgitating terrible ideas?
Sela Ward, you are so beautiful. And this is so terrible.
AND THEN THIS HAPPENED, FOR REAL, IN THE WORLD. Her facial expression is amazing. For the record, there are plenty of photos of her looking normal, but I much prefer using this to imagine that her inner monologue about her styling is SCATHING. Like, "What cheap David's Bridal clearance rack bullshit is this? Am I getting married in a saloon?"
And then THIS.
Oh, lord, it's like Sheers conbined with Demi Moore's bike shorts dress from the Oscars in the 80s.
I bet she wishes she could have this one back. She looks like something Prince Albert of Monaco probably once wore to an official dinner.
Sigh. I prefer her caftans.

The sign-up sheet is in the hotel lobby. Bring your own whips, please.

NO, GIRL.

Ugh, all that netting, and the twee hair... this thought it was SO GLAM, and is so very not.

Like a bad, ornate canopy bed.
Great color, hot mess of seaming, and depressing hair.
OUUUUUCH.
Look, Halle Berry is so depressed by Paula's gown that she bandaged her breasts in advance, just in case.
This isn't THAT egregious but it's also not GOOD, and I mostly wanted an excuse for us all to remember January Jones from back in the Groban days.

At this point I think we were all concerned Anne Heche was back to wandering around calling herself Celestia.

I can't even cope with how bad that bodice is. She looks like she's wearing a collar and a leash, like a newfangled Princess Leia minus the wire underpants.
Well, sure, even women in chain mail might want to put on an apron to protect it from pasta sauce. You don't know her life.
It's maternity, but it's also Tragic Austen.
Nope. Reload and fire again.
A delicious tornado of battyness.

Unsuccessful on every level.

You've heard of farms that let you pick your own berries. This one lets you pick your own loofah.
A failure to wrangle of the highest order.

This gown was custom-made for her, which makes its horrendous fit inexcusable.
How far she's come.
This is bunchy and depressing, especially considering how gorgeous she is and how well the color suits her.
YOU ARE SO TAN, CAMERON.
... a high-fashion mud puddle?
This is so screamingly hilariously bad that I had actually blotted it out of my mind. SHE. LOOKS. INSANE. Like she blew in on the wing of a plane and has been telling everyone she's your aunt from the continent.
Sea Anemone Chic.
So overwrought, and then she had to go and wear actual birds on her feet.
This is somehow both underwrought and overwrought. And full of nipple.
Upsetting.
AMAZING. But maybe not in the way she intended. Or in EXACTLY the way she intended, possibly, and we'll never know.

This is like an update of Sela Ward's bad dress, and yes, the new version fails also. I know some people liked it, but I sincerely think the cleavage and her glossy, perfect head-styling are just hypnotizing them.
Noooooooo. There is much to be sad about here, and I suspect for Anthropologie the main regret is that it never sold the hand-towel version of this dress.

HELLO, SLEEVE, MY OLD NEMESIS.
HELLO EVERYTHING, MY OLD NEMESIS.
Ugh, and then this one hid all of her light under a mourning bushel.
Some people also loved this, but I truly didn't. It's too much sheer, too short, too deeply cut, and the hair completely obscures her face.
The perfect encapsulation of Hot Mess.
