Fugger: Rumer Willis

The House Fuggy

There’s a club that’s popular these days with the kiddies in Hollywood called Trousdale, and EVERY SINGLE TIME I read it as “Trouserdale.” In the case of Rumer Willis, I wish it HAD been Trouserdale:

I imagine Trouserdale to be the pants equivalent of taking your pet to a giant field and letting it run around, frolicking free, maybe snacking on some plants or hot dog scraps that somebody left behind from a picnic. Like, you show up to Trouserdale, and everywhere there are people handing you trousers that magically fit, just like those traveling pants except you don’t have to share them or make up any disgusting rules about not running them through the washing machine.

This might be what my face looked like if I ever went to Trouserdale:



Fug or Fab: Rumer Willis

I have to admit, I feel like Rumer Willis has been looking really cute lately. Maybe I’m just getting old and soft, but I like to think that Demi eventually sat her down and said, “SERIOUSLY WHEN I TOLD YOU TO STAND UP STRAIGHT DURING THE GOLDEN GLOBES THAT ONE TIME I WAS NOT KIDDING!!!!” and Rumer was all, “holy GOD, FINE WOMAN WILL THIS SHUT YOU UP?”

It’s shutting ME up, even with the wacky asymmetrical skirt. But I love love love me so blazers. What do you think?


Fugelle and Rumfug

MICHELLE TRACHTENBERG: Hey, Rumer. You look different.
RUMER WILLIS: So do you!
MICHELLE: Well, I’m trying this new thing where my pants are unflattering and my shirt is from Motherhood maternity. I think it’s really working to create intrigue!
RUMER: And I’M trying this new thing where my clothes are a size too small, and I look like an escort who got her tie bitten off by a coked-up business executive during a team-building drug orgy! I think it’s really working to create… um…
MICHELLE: … pity?
RUMER: … Look, I’ll take it, okay?

Fug Madness 2010, Round One: Bjork Bracket


Whenever we see a celeb wearing giant sleeves, I often wonder what they’ve got up them; in Carrie’s case, it was a high Fug Madness seeding that was secreted up this billowing white arm-bugle:

At the time, I wondered whether Carrie was keeping Sleeve on a leash, or vice-versa. Almost a year later, I still have no answers. Only questions. And confusion. My brow is like, “SLOW DOWN, Underwood, you could grate cheese on my furrows.”

And yet, Carrie’s Bring Your Arm To Work Day matchy-matchy white nonsense is being met bravely by some resplendently nutty offerings from socialite Fabiola Beracasa:

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Unfug It Up: Rumer Willis

I love how it looks like the girls in the poster are shrieking at Rumer and Demi.

[Photo: Splash News]

Not that shrieking is necessarily warranted here. Demi looks lovely and dignified. But Rumer… she’s getting there, she really is. The jacket is intricate and interesting. But it’s also a tad mature: I could it on anyone ranging from Cate Blanchett to Meryl Streep or Helen Mirren to freaking Barbara Walters in that thing. Okay, maybe not Baba Wawa, unless she put a camisole under it, but you get the gist — don’t clothe yourself into your golden years, Rumer.

I’d almost like to see them trade outfits. Maybe we’d find out that it takes a very particular face and body to pull off an explosion of ruffles, but it also might be fun to see Rumer in a dress that’s not strapless, since she has a pathological inability to choose one that wants to stay above her ribcage.  As for Demi, she could totally work the lace, and would probably do better than pairing it with a truly unremarkable pair of black pants. They definitely don’t compete with the top, it’s true, but they don’t enhance it either. In fact, they’re kind of rolling over and playing dead. I’m glad Rumer herself is not — if Demi Moore were my mother, I might consider giving up completely and becoming a shut-in who never shaves and eats only what can be foraged from the attic — but I do wish she’d done something else here.

How would you fix this? Swap their clothes? Keep them in their outfits, but lose the pants (and replace them with something else)? Give them more exciting shoes? Or are they perfect just the way they left the house? Fair readers, let us know. You know the rules: On topic, on manners, on Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen. Merci.


Well Played, Rumer Willis

By George, I think she’s got it.

[Photo: FlynetOnline.com]

That might be the best I’ve seen Rumer Willis look. It’s probably no coincidence that this is also the most like Demi I’ve ever seen her look, but regardless: The kid has been through some REALLY rough phrases. Remember this? That mammarial crime made my soul yawp. And the experiment with red hair had really mixed results. There’s so much more where those came from — an entire Fug Madness nomination’s worth. I mean, essentially, Rumer is only famous for a) being Demi’s daughter; b) having Demi tell her at the Golden Globes, DURING the telecast, to stand up straight; and c) for wearing strapless dresses that constantly sagged south, limply, on her frame. So I’m relieved for her that she looks cute, clean, and well-made-up for this Letterman appearance. Maybe a role in ABC’s rumored St. Elmo’s Fire TV series is not far behind.

… Although I hope it is, because that remake sounds like BLASPHEMY. I mean, one of the producers said they imagine it having a similar tone to Friends. ST. ELMO’S FIRE IS NOT FRIENDS. Did Joey play the saxophone, rock a mullet, and deflower his cardigan-wearing best friend? Did Chandler stalk a really wooden doctor of dubious appeal? Did Monica open all the windows in her empty apartment and sit there crying in the cold breeze while Rob Lowe banged on the door? NO. And I definitely don’t recall Ally Sheedy doing this:

Kinda would’ve ruined the emotional climax of the movie if Ally stuck her head up the business end of a turkey before pulling a Kelly Taylor (in fact, beating Kelly Taylor to the punch by about ten years) and choosing herself.

I’m sure Rumer Willis would be THRILLED that a post in which I finally compliment her has devolved into an excuse to post that photo of Monica shimmying for Chandler like a stripper with a Thanksgiving fetish. But, hey, kid, take your compliments however they come.


Rufug Willis

Okay, so the pendulum swung back: Rumer’s got the hair working for her again, but the dress is back to being suspect:

Nothing says “classy” like a dress with photos on it of a woman’s hand holding a cigarette. She’s basically in costume as lung cancer, and if that doesn’t get a girl in the mood to wear a frilly tutu, I don’t know WHAT does.

Actually, for a long time, I stared at it and thought it was an order of french fries from McDonald’s, and sat here trying to think of a name for a ballet in which Rumer might be starring that’s based on the secret pain of the Hamburgler. All I came up with was The Clowncracker, which needed some workshopping, or Ron Lake, which sounds just as much like it could be about your accountant as about how one fast-food chain’s clown continually defeats a man who’s trying to steal his beef. Sigh. Fortunately it’s a moot point.