At Fashion Week this year, I kept thinking how much it must stink to be a designer who shows at the end of the week, because the ritualistic mind meld that occurs means that when said designer sends chartreuse and orange stuff down the runway — stuff that person worked super hard on — everyone is like, “God, AGAIN? We’ve already SEEN THIS BY NOW. YAWN.” Such was the case, a bit, with Kate Winslet. When she hit the carpet, we turned to each other and said, “BORING.”
But in fairness, regardless of whether tons of other people had already donned the color, Kate’s dress gets the thumbs down from me because it was a snoozer on its own merits. Girl. You knew you were the hot favorite to win, making you three-quarters of the way to your coveted EGOT. When you inevitably star on Broadway just to get that Tony, and someone makes you a giant framed photo of you winning all your statuettes, EVEN YOU are going to look at this and suddenly drop into narcoleptic slumber. Admit it.
