Fugger: Rooney Mara
ROONEY: I can’t look.
CATE: Why, pet?
ROONEY: Look, I don’t know whether people voted that outfit Fug or Fab yet, but I just feel like maybe I didn’t think this through.
CATE: What, dear? Your outfit?
ROONEY: Everything. The outfit. How the outfit would look standing next to you. The fact that our skin looks the same age even though you’re 16 years older than I am, and I didn’t even think to bring a notebook to write down how the hell you DO THAT.
CATE: Sunscreen. And also I marinate in awesome sauce every night for an hour while I read scripts.
ROONEY: You do?
CATE: No. I’m kidding. I marinate in it all the time. It’s called my DNA. Or maybe it’s four bottles of really good wine. I’ll never tell.
ROONEY: I should have worn a real skirt.
CATE: It’s good advice. But listen, I have a checkered history, Roo. I have worn all kinds of things that might not be real skirts. I’m still not sure I didn’t accidentally wear someone’s granny’s afghan. The key is to act like it’s a real skirt, and like you don’t give a toss if it’s not, because whatever is going on inside your head is more interesting than what’s happening on your body and people should FEEL that.
ROONEY: You make it sound so easy.
CATE: It comes with age and wisdom. And also probably the sauce. Or the wine.
ROONEY: Maybe I’ll try the wine first and see.
CATE: Yes. Baby steps. Get sauced however you can.
This is the one of the conventionally sexiest things she’s probably ever worn. This is literally the only time I can EVER say, “I could imagine that outfit Rooney Mara’s wearing on Kim Kardashian.” It’s true:
And while “sexy” isn’t my Number One Requirement for anyone — other, perhaps, than my Lovahs — and certainly not for someone whose overall mien is so intellectual, I actually think it looks well on her. (Not that she can’t BE sexy; I do recommend Side Effects.) It’s just WEIRD to see her in something that isn’t all Architectural Sculptural Directionalism — and in fact I was going to put it up vote because of that. But you know what? We can all use a change now and then. Keep changing it up, sister.
Imagine you’re minding your business, just doing whatever it is you do during your off-time (drinking a pumpkin latte and looking at a sweater in the window of The Gap? Standing at the dog park and wondering if you’re ever going to break free of the shackles of Candy Crush? Reading a book about people having romantical problems in olden times with baseball on the background? Being the best damn amateur dominatrix in town? Whatever) and someone GRABS you and holds a knife to your jugular and barks, “QUICK: What do you think Rooney Mara is wearing right now?”
This is basically exactly what you’d say, right?
We’re not even that far into The Rebirth of the Crop Top, and already I don’t know how to handle them.
See, I’m always going to see the strip of skin and roll my eyes and go, “Ugh, crop tops, WHY GOD.” But that makes for boring reading, so I suppose — much like with the reviled jumpsuit — I have to TRY and rank them by their comparative merits. By that logic, this is fine. I like the navy top, and nothing else about it is terrible, and I can’t see her navel. The shoes are good. I love a black toenail, provided it’s from polish and not the funk of a thousand fungi. The abs aren’t really ruining anything. So as crop-top outfits go… it’s at least fab-adjacent. It bought a home on the outskirts of Fabland and is currently fighting with the post office over whether its zip code is zoned into the region or not.