Fug File: leggings

Stacy Fugbler

Wow. From glorified shapewear, to glorified running tights.

The shirt and the jacket don’t really work together either — it’s all too conflictingly shiny and monochromatic — but if she’d thrown it on with some skinny jeans, we’d have less to discuss. The fact that she’s wearing it with those… listen, if anyone in the world has “LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS” embroidered on a throw-pillow in his lady’s dressing chamber, it’s Intern George. Maybe he accidentally let that one in Lake Como.

[Photo: INF]


Kill Fug 3


Remember the person who was dressing you for Cannes? CALL HER. CALL HER NOW.


Alice Fuggel

Every superhero and super-villain has that one thing that can destroy them, you know? Like, for Superman, it’s kryptonite.  For the Wicked Witch of the West, it’s an otherwise innocent bucket of water. For Lord Voldemort, it’s — SPOILER, although, honestly, you HAVE to be done with that book by now — love.

And for me, Super Fug Girl 2, it’s this:

To quote the great one: I’M MELTING.


Bai Fugling

Sweet Bai Ling. I missed you, while I was all wrapped up in Awards Season. Thank God you’re still bravely leaving the house:

I kind of like this crazy coat — and after all, what goes with a floral coat like pants with eyes that follow you around the room, like creepy pictures in haunted houses in old horror movies primarily aired on weekend afternoons by basic cable channels and often introduced by Elvira?

Yours are giving me a dirty look:


Man-Fug Tuesday

Last night, something happened in Hollywood. The men came out. And they looked…well, let’s get real, you guys: They looked totally cracked out. I don’t know if there’s some new hallucinogen in the water, or if these dudes have finally collapsed under the pressure of the fact that the holidays are coming at us like that runaway train in that movie where Denzel is wry and heroic and Chris Pine is young and sassy, but SOMETHING is up.


Fug Me

I just love Sia. Never has anyone seemed so delighted to be anywhere, ever:

Does she KNOW her knee cut a peephole? It doesn’t matter, because she probably doesn’t care, because she just wants her knee to have as much fun as she herself is having. If I had to draw the person who sang “Breathe Me” and those few Zero 7 songs, she would look nothing like this. Which I don’t mean as an insult; just as an example of why the world can be an awesomely surprising place, as I had imagined someone sultry and maybe a little sullen and hungry for complex carbohydrates, more Fiona Apple than an eccentric life-loving free spirit in the face of whose glee it’s impossible not to smile.

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