Fugger: Lady Gaga

Fugs and Fab-Adjecent: Lady Gaga

Weirdly, some of this works for me. Not as well as it worked for Liz Hurley, though.


Lady Fuga

Coming this fall on Downton Gaga:

I can’t wait for when the Dowager Countess of Grantham gets a load of this with those shoes. The scandal! The tea sandwiches and cocked eyebrows will FLY.

[Photo: Splash]



Fugtle Monsters

It seems Lady Gaga, who considers herself such a pioneer, has decided to come out with her own perfume — thus following in the illustrious footsteps of forebears like Hilary Duff, Avril Lavigne, and Carmen Electra. Supposedly her own blood was used for part of it, she wanted it to smell “slutty,” and the ingredient list is: “tears of belladonna, crushed heart of tiger orchidea with a black veil of incense, pulverized apricot and the combinative essences of saffron and honey drops.” I had read somewhere ELSE, or so I thought, that she wanted it to have a whiff of semen about it. But I can’t find that, so let’s just pretend it never happened.

[Photos: WENN]


Little Fugsters: A Lady Gaga Omnibus

“Excuse me, kind sir? Could you tell me the easiest route to Hogwarts from here? I missed the train.”


Lady Fugga

So, this weekend, Jessica and I stumbled on a hideously bad movie on cable called Love Ranch, about the first brothel in Nevada, directed by Taylor Hackford and starring his wife Helen Mirren and Joe Pesci as a married couple (I said to Jessica, “She must REALLY LOVE HER HUSBAND”), and Taryn Manning, Elise Neal, Gina Gershon, and Bai Ling as prostitutes. What we saw of it was crazy bad — I think Joe Pesci used variations of the f-word in one speech as at least three different parts of speech, and you can see Mirren’s eyes glaze over in the middle of it — but you can’t beat the title. I’m surprised that isn’t a reality show. Except I guess it already is, and has been, and you’ve seen it as any one or many of the following: Temptation Island, Love Island, Bachelor Pad, that awful winter Big Brother season where they tried to make everyone hook up, possibly Tool Academy in parts, and whatever that show was where Tila Tequila let a bunch of people lick her on camera.

All of which is a long-winded and strange segue to this outfit:

In this, I think of her as the proprietor of the Three Musketeers’ favorite love ranch, where “All For One and One For All” has a distinctly different meaning.

But what I really cherish about this photo is the glazed look in her eyes, as if she’s thinking, “How the HELL am I going to fit this sucker in a car?”

no, really


Well Played Cover: Lady Gaga

You guys may think I’m insane for this, but I have to say, this is super effective for me.

I know we get cranky about covers where the subjects don’t really look recognizably themselves, but here’s why I think that’s an asset here: 1) We’ve gotten to the point where who the hell KNOWS or REMEMBERS what Lady Gaga even looks like anymore; 2) I have complete and total Gaga fatigue, and I don’t think I’m alone in that; 3) seeing her on this cover made me interested instead of eye-rolly, because the silhouette is so striking, the color is majestic, and I don’t think I’ve seen her like this in a long time. I practically forgot she even HAD a face. It makes me faintly curious about her again, which I never thought would happen, and that is about the only way you’re likely to get me to pick up a five-pound magazine and bring it home. Sure, it hasn’t WORKED — the odds of me actually doing that are slimmer than her waist in this picture; I only barely have patience for free weights in the gym, and I have enough doorstops — but they got me about as close as I was going to get, by convincing me maybe there was something to see in here that I hadn’t already looked at a thousand times. Mission accomplished, I think.