I seriously just looked at a photo set entitled, “Elizabeth Hurley Leaves The Optometrist.” If people are still going to the optometrist instead of wearing cracked-out stuff by the time we get to Fashion Week, there is going to be a Heather-shaped hole in the wall, through which I will have hurled myself in a Miller High Life-induced tizzy (if I’m not drinking Champagne, why not the Champagne of beers? Better that than the beer of Champagnes).
That said, I’m always happy to see Lizzy Caplan out and about, because she’s usually either a great thing about a good project (Mean Girls, Party Down), or the best thing about a bad one (I was not a fan of Tru Calling 0r — awesome name aside – Hot Tub Time Machine). But I’m not sure even her innate Lizzy Caplanness can save this dress from being underwhelming. We are operating at a deficit already because I’m sick of bodices that look like bras. Indeed, I feel like the whole undergarment industry is just that: for underneath your garments. So when they BECOME the garment, it’s like… the student becoming the teacher… except in a really terrible school where they torture metaphors like this one with inferior diet soda. Whatever. Ignore that. The point is, I don’t like it when people wear stuff that looks like it’s missing what goes over it. That is a very nice slip that one could wear while sitting in front of one’s vanity, powder-puffing one’s shoulders and singing with Annie about going to the movies. But for being worn out into the world, it is severely lacking, and for me is sentenced to certain doom by being paired with terrible shoes.