Amber looks slinky. Johnny looks … Deppy.
Sometimes I get sidetracked imagining these two actually trying to have a practical conversation. “What should we have for dinner tonight?” “Simplicity.” “Can I delete Real Housewives from the DVR?” “It’s a multi-faceted thing, erasure.” “Can you put toilet paper on the shopping list?” “First, in order to understand the toilet paper, I have to walk the tightrope between compassion for its destiny — to be brought out of the plastic womb, only to be broken, torn, destroyed in a watery grave for which it can do nothing by lie in wait — and an understanding of its primal urge to scrape, to scour. To acquire, I have to inhabit.” And so forth.
We also accidentally forgot to include Amber in our Globes coverage, so let us remedy that now:
She’s in a Gucci very reminiscent of one Anne Hathaway wore years ago. This one looks somewhat less like she is riding on a May Float but the fact that I can see her slip is killing the bodice’s mojo. I do enjoy that the Globes gods paired up two people who then wore diametrically opposed dresses, though; those same gods should have reached down and handed Amber some blotting papers before they took the stage, but whatever. Gods can be cruel.