Well, this didn’t take long. Ms. Momsen extracted a compliment from the jaws of doom yesterday, but later on at the same event, she ditched that dress in favor of something a little more typically Taylor:
With the candles and the curtains and the thigh-highs and the sheer bits, she fully looks like she’s inviting you to the back room for a lap dance. For which you would be arrested, BECAUSE SHE IS SIXTEEN OH MY GOD HOW MANY TIMES IS SHE GOING TO GIVE ME THIS SAME ANEURYSM CHILD PLEASE YOU ARE TURNING ME INTO A SHRILL OLD HARPY I JUST WANT YOU TO STOP PLAYING COURTNEY LOVE AND HOLY CATS I HAVE GOT TO HAVE A DIET COKE IN THE NEXT TWENTY SECONDS.
Twenty-five seconds later…
Well. Even Diet Coke didn’t help. I think I need a 12-step group to cope with her pathological need to skip out on her youth. Sweetpea, trust me, you will miss that when it’s gone. Don’t try to be in your twenties now, because then you’ll be in your thirties when you’re actually 20, and although I have had a great run in that decade so far, I am pretty sure I would love another ten years in my twenties to do better moisturizing. So please don’t grow up so fast.