Fugger: Marion Cotillard

Met Ball Fug/Fab Face-Off: Marion vs Rooney


Beyonce may have been the Omega of transparency on the red carpet last night, but there were plenty of other comers before her — including the Former Queen of Spiky Bangs Rooney Mara, and the pretender to her throne, Marion Cotillard.

I say “pretender” because, while they’re a little dated and feathered (despite being so short) on Marion, they also don’t distract me from how adorable her face is. Whereas Rooney’s just looked like traumatic event — which is apt for Lisbeth Salander, but rough sledding for a starlet.

Let’s consider the outfits, though. Marion here has a gown that I think might have been truly gorgeous, had the ombre effect been opaque, rather than an exercise in skirty-hose — you know, sheer like nylons, flowy like a dress. Sometimes I just think, look, if you want to wear booty shorts that badly, then stick to your guns and wear them and hang the consequences. Let us hate them if we must, or love them if we dare. Just don’t prevaricate.

Ditto to Rooney:

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Well Played, Marion Cotillard


Is this inception at work?

Because it kind of confuses my eyes. The bodice looks like a sewing mistake. But somehow I still really like the hell out of it, especially with those shoes and the light makeup. Did someone come to me in a dream last night and tell me to like this? Or… am I still IN the dream? Hang on, I’m going to go spin a ring and see what it does.  But if it turns out I am still asleep, I’m not waking up until somebody incepts me a few grand for my bank account. Get in there, dream weavers.

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La Vie en Fug


Oh my god, you guys. What is HAPPENING HERE?

Parts of the interwebs have been speculating that Marion has a bun in the oven — excuse me, un croissant dans le four — but I’m simply loath to speculate. Okay, that’s a total lie: I love to speculate, about everything, but I simply don’t have enough evidence here to settle on a theory one way or the other, though I must admit that I DO  think she looks marginally more lush than usual (in a good way). Not that I could really see anything in this picture that wasn’t intimately involved with the Trainwreck of Her Neck Attire.  Maybe I missed this day in health class, but is an increased fondness for random, straggly collar feathers and/or hair tip-toeing dangerously toward Art Garfunkel territory a little known symptom of pregnancy? If so, someone call Us Weekly, because GIRLFRIEND IS KNOCKED UP.

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Fug or Fab: Marion Cotillard


Hmm.

We all know I’m not a huge fan of the mono-sleeve, especially when it’s more of a cape, as if the arm within has a superhero complex. And this material looks sort of… less expensive than I want it to, and what’s more, did she stuff her bra? I know Marion is capable of plumping them up like Thanksgiving turkeys, but history shows they’re not always that way, so why do they look so weird and lopsided and swollen under this dress? I’m sure they’re lovely and non-lopsided and normal in real life, so what’s up with the Pamela Anderson effect here?
That being said… I can’t decide if I hate the dress. Why? Because I am fond of her, and I think she elevates outfits I ordinarily might reject. What to do? How to feel? It’s Friday, it’s been a loooooooong week, and I am out of Diet Coke. So I need you to decide for me.

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Le Petits Fugchoirs


Marion Cotillard’s beautiful big eyes are my favorite feature of hers. So I’m bummed that they’re lost in everything else that’s going on here:

I’m not merely referring to the giant leather dust-ruffle she is using as underwire, but also to the shaggy banged ‘do and bright lipstick. Even the peekaboo shoes are conspiring to draw attention away from her pretty, pretty face. Hell, this whole outfit is something you would ask a lady to wear if you suspected she were secretly Medusa. No fear of anyone turning to stone on this day, that’s for sure, which is good because that fate is really not convenient for me right now.
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Well Played AGAIN: Marion Cotillard


I am getting TERRIBLY BORED of how freaking great Marion Cotillard looks at all the Inception premieres:

Seriously. I’m so glad for her that she’s all gorgeous and French and chic and whatnot, but where does that leave ME, I ask you? It’s July: Celebrities have all locked themselves in their beach cabanas for the duration, thinking little of what we who chronicle their clothes must go through every day, as we labor desperately looking for someone — ANYONE — wearing something that’s not a bikini and doing something that’s not drinking a cocktail on a yacht. Could one of you famous bitches do me a solid and wear something heinous out of the house? Uggs layered over a satin jumpsuit? A leather short-shorts romper paired with clogs and a chef’s toque? A pleather catsuit with the butt cut out, covered in silk-screened photos of Luke Perry? SOMETHING. (Hey, I made Ellen Page wear green simply using the powers of my mind. If someone shows up in that last one, I’m going to start taking requests.) In other words: you look great, Marion, and you’re NOT HELPING.

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