Martha, Martha, MARTHA.
If, and only if, this ballet you’re seeing is about the time Dorothy Zbornak took a South Beach spin class taught by Charo, then I accept you wearing gold lame dance pants. AND if this ballet you’re seeing is about the time Dorothy Zbornak took a South Beach spin class taught by Charo, and you didn’t send me tickets, I will NEVER do any scrapbooking ever again and what’s more A CRAFTING TABLE WILL NEVER ENTER THIS HOUSE. OH YES, YOU HEARD ME.
Just in case you were wondering whether the dress code for this event was Jazzerthighs:
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Fab or Fine: Amy Adams
Y’all know I have been less than enamored of Amy’s outfits lately. And in one case, I think maybe I tried too hard to like it because I was sick of that blah wah-waaaaah feeling. Tell me: Am I doing the same here? Or is this actually good?
The color is a nice rich red, and she doesn’t look stumpy, and the fit seems precise. But I freely admit I might just be hypnotized by her cascade of titian tresses, which is basically its own Pantene ad. The longer I look at her face, the more I wonder if she needed to stop doing the exact same makeup she does every other day for every other type of event, and branch into a red that plays with the dress… but then again, I am someone who doesn’t know HOW to do any makeup other than mascara and whatever lip gloss I just found in my purse, so what do I know?
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