The Fug Sense

Let me put it this way: you know you’re in a pickle when I — someone who writes about people’s bad outfits for a living, and thus generally appreciate them for at least giving me interesting material — see your picture in a thumbnail and gasp, “Oh no, PLEASE DON’T BE MISCHA BARTON.”

You guys, it was Mischa Barton:

I am…traumatized. On one hand, I’ve been doing this job for six years and there is something to be said about the fact that I still am able to feel shock and dismay and concern as regards a celebrity’s fashion choices. I think it means that, deep down, I still want the best for poor Mischa, poor little Marissa Cooper, who touched us all so much that she had that bitchin’ hissy on The OC and threw all her mom’s patio furniture in the pool. (Parenthetically, why would someone do that to Julie Cooper Nichol? Julie Cooper Nichol is AWESOME. She once appeared on an episode wearing a shirt that I own and, unlike the times when Liz Lemon pops up in something I also have and I get concerned about myself, that made me feel like such a bad-ass that I went out and started hitting on underage pool boys.) And now look at her. But not too closely, because I am concerned that dress might cause seizures. Also, you probably shouldn’t look too carefully at what is happening on her head:

Please tell me this is for a Desperately Seeking Susan remake. PLEASE. I JUST WANT TO BE ABLE TO SLEEP TONIGHT. Otherwise, I know I’m going to be tossing and turning, wondering if someone needs to go over to La Barton’s house and clean out the closet while she sleeps. For her own good. Seriously.

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