It’s okay, Brad.
You don’t have to be lonely with FarmersOnly.com.
Her face says, “I know,. I KNOW. Let’s just get through this.”
Her evil satin hell-clot of a dress says, “HA! SUCKER. #TeamJen.”
Usually, an outfit is felled by its LACK of pants:
But this one, unfortunately, has fallen victim to supreme overconfidence in them. She is a beautiful, ageless lady, and those pants are at least sixty-five and well on their way to collecting Social Security. And if the Everest-size pleats haven’t completely ruined this for you, then the stripper platforms can bat clean-up.
La Mamet is BACK:
And she’s performing her usual alchemy. Separately, most of this is probably totally fine — I even LIKE the wackadoo demi-paisley pants — and yet something about the way she puts the ingredients together bakes up the weirdest fug souffle. Here’s hoping she keeps her secret recipe to herself.
And now, after that last monstrosity, here is your palate-cleanser:
Not sure I LOVE the shoes with it, but they’re not nude, so I won’t complain. The rest of it is ADORABLE. She apparently didn’t get the memo that wearing actual fabric is so 2009, and THANK GOD FOR THAT. Nobody should get that memo. Burn that memo. I HATE that memo.
I have been staring at this for fifteen minutes and I can’t… well, I can’t:
Everything she’s wearing is black, and if I’m not mistaken, they are all slightly DIFFERENT depths of black. They are also different depths of hideous. The blazer is mildly whatever, the tunic that might think it’s a dress is problematically terrible, and the pants are hot sliced loaves of no. Does she do this stuff on purpose so that we’ll all talk about how amazing her face is? If so… she’s a genius, because I just did.