It’s not that I disapprove of the IDEA of funkier shoes with this dress…
… it’s just that I’m not particularly sure how I feel about these, with their leather strips that stick out all akimbo like those colorful tabs people stick in their cookbooks to mark specific recipes. If I pull on the one three up from her toes, will it take me to a recipe for pigs in a blanket? Because I love pigs in a blanket. Who doesn’t? I mean, aside from pigs? And vegetarians? Although even they have something to love about it — the blanket itself is pretty tasty on its own.
Anyway, the dress itself, I adore — it’s really eye-catching and cool, with a lot of art and nifty construction (like the pleats on the left). There might be a fit issue on her right shoulder, but I don’t know if I care — the rest of it makes me happy. Especially in light of what she wore last night, which… gird your loins, people, because “eye-catching” does not even begin to cover it:
This does not catch one’s eye, so much as assault it in a dark alley, kick it in the retina, and then steal its wallet. Jessica and I saw this at the Marchesa show in September, and I remember we turned to each other and basically went, “Um, OKAY THERE, CRAZY,” because although I’m sure this is some special feat of draping and boob tape the likes of which indicate stellar craftsmanship and adhesive precision, it is also completely freaking insane, like something you would wear if you were a genie consigned to live in a bottle at Marilyn Manson’s house. Thus, we knew immediately that somebody would trot it out when we least expected it. We’d thought perhaps J.Lo, or Cate Blanchett, or maybe Kate Hudson if she would ever stop wearing white to everything. How short-sighted we were, because OF COURSE Leighton Meester would be the one.
Short of Blake Lively and that Gaga fellow, nobody enjoys showing off the curve of her own ass check as much as La Meest. Indeed, it makes me wonder if they have some sort of “one ass at a time” arrangement — at the CFDA gala, Blake was all GO GET ‘EM, THIGHS, and Leighton was more demure, and now that Blake is absent Leighton has brandished the buttocks. I’m surprised she didn’t have somebody walking around trying to live-action blur this outfit all night. Presumably that is a nude catsuit under there for modesty purposes, but that sucker is the Murder, She Wrote of catsuits — it has good intentions about not getting caught, yet upon first provocation (usually from the kindly old busybody who thinks she knows everyone’s business) cannot help revealing everything. Marchesa should rename this outfit The Jessica Fletcher.