I almost spaced out and titled this post “Fug or Rita Ora,” as if there’s usually ever a sartorial difference. But in this case, I am at least INTERESTED in her outfit rather than terrified.
The boots look ridiculous with it — they belong someplace else entirely, preferably on the body of SWINTON as she heads over to David Bowie’s place for a raucous night of sushi and “I Never” and some soft-serve from one of the seven machines that ONLY do swirls. But the rest, I might not hate, just possibly not all at ONCE. Individually, the jacket is interesting. The blouse could work. The skirt looks mildly like an external manifestation of pelvic inflammatory disease, but at least it’s interesting — and I think if each piece were used as the accent in a simpler look, it’d be more effective than all that fire all at once. Together it just looks like fire. Self-immolation is rarely the right style choice, so if you were Rita, what would you have done? Picked one and surrounded it with easier things? Picked one and surrounded it with complex but different things? Gone two out of three? Eaten the whole enchilada, inferno of indigestion be damned?
[Photo: Fame/Flynet]
