Fug File: GQ

Fug the Cover: Taylor Lautner

It makes sense that Taylor Lautner doesn’t want to spend his life being That Shirtless Wolf Who Was In Twilight That Time, but this pushes a little too far in the other direction:

I want to like it — cute boy in a suit — but it’s just so glum and charmless. The kid is 19. He should be allowed to look like a hot young adult, rather than a) one of the students featured in the Terrorist Reform School story; b) all five telltale signs of a psycho boss; c) the crabby upstart on an episode of Mad Men who makes Pete Campbell look like an easygoing noodle of a man; or d) an old-school game-show host who is really, really angry whenever anyone gets a whammy.

[Photo: Splash News]


Fug the Cover: Dianna Agron, Cory Monteith, and Lea Michele

Don’t even get me started. No, seriously. Don’t get me started on this. Yes, GQ, the PERFECT person to shoot a cover and editorial spread about a show about teenagers is TERRY RICHARDSON, who’s recently enjoyed a tidal wave of press about how he is TOTALLY GROSS to all the underage models who are sent to him! WHAT AN AWESOME PLAN. And what is YET AWESOMER is to decide that the women on Glee should pose COMPLETELY SCANTILY CLAD as if they were washed up WB starlets angling for the cover of Maxim circa 1999.

Look, I get that GQ is kind of lad-mag adjacent and that the people on Glee are of age, but when you look at this cover and the shots inside and Dianna Agron looks like a nun simply because she’s wearing BOTTOMS, maybe we’ve crossed a PR-bridge too far. After all, when you’ve got Lea Michele making her Victoria’s Secret face on the cover in her underpants, do you ALSO need her to be eating a lollipop in her panties inside? And also eating a lollipop in her panties with her legs spread and playing with her hair? And, oh, just standing around in her panties — sans lollipop this time, but threatening to take off her top? I don’t mean to strangle myself with these pearls that I’m clutching BUT COME ON. You can be cute and you can be sexy and you can be alluring and you can still wear something other than your panties in every single shot in a national magazine, especially when the other people in the spread range from COMPLETELY (Cory) to kinda (Dianna) clothed. I don’t blame Lea Michele for this — although I have to admit that my reaction to these pictures was to say, “oh, god. She really IS unbearable.” — but I do blame SOMEONE for not saying, “hey, this show is all about how cool it is to be different and talented, so maybe our lead actress — who is crazy talented and would be even if she were wearing a zombie costume — doesn’t need to be styled like the most important thing about her is her body, just like every other anonymous sexpot in every other lad mag in the world. LET’S TRY A SHOT WITH SOME PANTS TERRY YOU DISGUSTING OLD GOAT.”

I need to go breathe into a bag now. What do you think?

Fug the Cover: Anne Hathaway



Fug The Cover: Clint Eastwood

I understand that the whole point of this is that Clint Eastwood is a badass.

[Photo: Splash News]

But Clint Eastwood is a badass by nature — by the glint in his eye, the twitch of a brow — not because he knows how to make himself turn purple while the vein in his forehead pulses. So while I’m relieved to see that, my awards-show-based fears to the contrary, Clint CAN still move his face, I do wish GQ had decided to let him be his regular innately fierce self as opposed to suggesting he act constipated. While sitting on a stool. (Oh, come on, it had to be said.) THAT’S NOT OKAY.


Fug The Cover: January Jones

Again, much like with Maxim, I get that the point of this cover has absolutely nothing to do with January Jones’ face.

And when you have someone as delicately beautiful as January is on Mad Men, I understand roughing her up and making her edgy and bad-ass because it plays against her alter-ego, and thus Joe Schmoe at the newsstand might buy the magazine because he’s pretty sure she’s the kind of girl who will do naughty things with his tire iron. But none of that explains why GQ chose this particular angle on her face, which I don’t think works to her advantage. She looks menacing, kind of clunky, and vaguely tired, none of which she is — well, okay, she might be tired. I don’t know her life. At least the advertised story on where to find the best coffee in America could help her with that. Hey, wait, maybe THAT’S why GQ chose this angle on her face. Brilliant! Forget I said anything.


Fug The Cover: Zac Efron

We have gotten a lot of e-mails about this cover, most of them inquiring about when, exactly, Zac Efron became his own bobblehead.

Now, I would’ve thought Zac Efron didn’t need a continuing education in which he’s taught not to hire strippers. And as much as I appreciate GQ‘s attempts to give him a grown-up five o’clock shadow — or, well, maybe more of a lunchtime tincture — it doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s dressed like he’s hosting a ’60s sock-hop for TV. I mean, the kid was in Hairspray. We’ve been there, done that, and watched several 13-year old girls scream themselves into a dead faint over it.

But it’s ALSO totally true that Zac’s head looks rather too big for his body. What is he supposed to learn from that? Not to get a huge ego? Not to agree to Zac Efron Bobblehead Night at Dodger Stadium? I suppose “Smart Clothes for Tough Times” might be a very handy primer for Zac on how to cope sartorially with this wrenching, emotional phase in which his skull is ballooning to sizes unforeseen, but I suspect this is all just a big clue not to pose for GQ any more.