Jessica Chastain
It's too late in my life to claim this hair as my own, I fear. Also that would involve a measure of scalping I'm not comfortable with, as I don't think I would do well in prison unless there was free WiFi, because you know the 3G up in that joint is for the birds -- but if somehow AT&T is giving JAIL better 3G than Lincoln Center in New York, somebody ought to be getting an angry letter or twenty.
AND THEN...
Jessica Chastain
AAAARGH. BREASTPLATE OF FANCY DOOM. She looks like she's in the act of being molded for some Garden of Eden action figures. It's TERRIBLE. It's not a dress; it's scaffolding that's caught gangrene.
Jessica Chastain
Nope, doesn't look any better to me in context. It's a blurry mix of dowagers who fancy themselves New York City cultural philanthropists and a burlesque show called Ice Tassles. Or Ice Asstles. Or Niiiiiice Castles (Nudge, Nudge). Wow, there are a lot of really hacky directions in which to take that. But you feel me. It's like she hired Eric Ripert to cater a party in which she will bewitch investors by unfurling herself from within a bathtub on a pedestal that's replica of the Met, so that they will fund next year's creative slate.
Jessica Chastain
These are the silver versions of the black ones she wore recently with that cute YSL cocktail frock. At least, I think they are. I thought the black ones were a mistake with that outfit, but frankly, I think footwear is the least of the problems here. I just needed to give my eyes a break from Ditney GagTeesepears up there.