Fugger: Sienna Miller

Unfug It Up: Sienna Miller

Hey, remember Sienna Miller? She’s alive!

I was going to put this to a vote, and then I realized that I kind of hate it. She looks like she wrapped a black tablecloth around a totally unrelated dress, perhaps because she sat in something unseemly. That’s admirable when done on the fly, but questionable when done on purpose. But surely this can be fixed! Personally, I suspect the easiest solution would be to extend the pleated part all the way down, but I secretly (I guess not so secretly, now) hate the Continually Ruched Skirt, so I might just make the whole bottom half fringed. YES, I recognize that would be crazy, but at least it’d be fun to dance in. What say you?

[Photo: Getty]


Fug or Fab: Sienna Miller

Say what you will about Miss Sienna Miller — I used to hate her, and now I feel sort of pleasantly neutral about her, the way I feel about, say, nutmeg — but this picture is kind of charming:

Given the items she’s holding, you’d think she was really stoked to be graduating with honors from Pine Cone Academy for Food Pyramid Mastery. It makes me consider being somewhat more charitable toward the rest of this:

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Well Played, and Unfug It Up: Sienna Miller

If you squint your eyes when looking at these photos of Sienna Miller, you might just think she was Diane Kruger:

[Photo: Splash News]

That’s a good thing for her. Even better if the Squinting Person is Josh Jackson and he accidentally brings her a cocktail — though that might lead to fisticuffs with Jude Law and while I’d be thrilled to read a cover story in Us Weekly about Jude Law and Josh Jackson getting into a man-fight instead of ANOTHER story about Teen Freaking Mom, I don’t want either of those boys to hurt their faces. Which is a roundabout way of saying, I like this, I think. I also think that’s a lining we see, rather than a bra, and thank god it’s not her nipples.

I’m not as convinced that I’m a fan of this look, though:

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Met Ball Fug or Fab: Sienna Miller

SIENNA MILLER: So, I guess we’re back together.

JUDE LAW: So it appears.

SIENNA: How are you feeling about that?

JUDE: How are YOU feeling about it?

SIENNA: I dunno. We were sort of entertaining together back in the day, but it didn’t end very well. REMEMBER?

JUDE: Let’s talk about your outfit instead!

SIENNA: Okay! I love it. What do you think?

JUDE: It’s interesting.

SIENNA: THAT’S diplomatic.

JUDE: No, it literally is interesting. The color is great. Your face looks excellent.

SIENNA: I didn’t PICK OUT my face. I picked out this dress!

JUDE: Let’s just put it to a vote, darling:


Fug Madness 2010, Round One Continued: Bjork Bracket


La Meester worked really hard this year to ditch the Blair Waldorf persona and adopt one of Lady Solangaga Perry. The one picture I DESPERATELY want to print here is the one I can’t legally use. It’s this one (go to slide #3, if it doesn’t take you there automatically). LEIGHTON. HONEY. Those pants look like she had several terrible lady accidents and one awkward encounter with watercolors.

I can, however, show you this:

Those pants are kind of half-Waldorfian, half-Jenny Humphrey — it’s like what Blair would counsel Little J to wear the night she loses her virginity: Just wrap up your crotch like the precious gift it is, but in leather, to preserve the Jenny Humphrey “It Should Have Been Me In The Runaways So I’m COMING FOR YOU, FANNING” aura.

If you click on Leighton’s archive, you’ll see so much more fug from which to choose. Like this:

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Miss Fugly

“Hey guys,”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I’m late but you wouldn’t BELIEVE what I had to go through to get here. First, so I’m leaving my apartment, right? And I’m waiting for the elevator and it gets to my floor and the door opens and I walk in and I fall right down the elevator shaft. The door just opened and the car wasn’t there! But luckily I only fell like….I dunno….thirty feet? Right. So, I manage to shimmy up the wall of the elevator shaft and I haul myself up onto my floor and I decide, fine — I’ll take the stairs. So I take all forty flights of stairs and when I get outside, I realize I’m really running late, so I decide to cut through the park, okay? So I’m walking along minding my own business and the next thing you know, I swear to God, this cat the size of a goat FLIES out of a tree and onto my head. So I’m wrestling this feral cat for seriously I don’t even know how long, like at least twenty minutes.  And then once I ditched the cat, I had to run, you know, because I know I’m really late now, and of course it’s dark, and I’m in these heels and then OF COURSE I tripped and I fell into a giant pile of brambles. I do NOT know what they were doing in the middle of the pathway, it must have been some kind of gardening miscommunicado, but it took me forever to extract myself from them, and, actually, I think some of them might have been on fire. And then just as I was leaving of the park, a gang of girl hoodlums jumped me and stole my bag and made fun of my ponytail, like all, ‘Didn’t you learn anything from The September Issue? Why is your dress all covered in holes and torn up at the bottom? We hated G.I. Joe,‘ and I was like, ‘bitch, I just fell down an elevator shaft, wrestled a feral cat, was brutally attacked by flora, almost caught on fire, and had my bag stolen by hooligans. How do you EXPECT ME TO LOOK? I’VE HAD A LONG NIGHT.’ And after that, they left me alone.

Anyway. That’s why I’m late. And why my dress looks like it’s just been through the third act of a Michael Bay film. So sorry. Can someone just direct me to the bar? Thanks.”