Methinks Intern George loves himself a project. In fact, now I’m imagining him going full Cher Horowitz, rubbing his hands together and squealing, “PROJECT!”
This is fitted where they grey one was not; delicate where it was clunky; classy where the black one was psychotic. It’s still not perfection — I think she needs a little more sparkle if the bodice is going to sit that low — and it looks a hair snug across her chest, although perhaps that’s because the grey one was so loose that we actually saw some of her boob tape, which is the wrestling equivalent of doing a dive off the ropes and landing three feet left of your target. I wouldn’t have minded a more striking color, but overall, Intern George did okay.
I mean, come on, it’s like he’s checking his work. Clearly he’s princessing her up, right? Isn’t that what he does? Why else would he never date anyone of his own approximate age and fame level? In exchange for — I assume — signing your life away and refusing ever to discuss it with anyone except in vague and happy terms, a girl probably ought to get a glam squad out of it. And I DO like Stacy’s hair and makeup, so: baby steps. (As opposed to BABY STEPS?, which you just know is a forthcoming In Touch headline the next time Stacy eats a cheeseburger. I hope she eats it anyway. Screw ‘em, girl. Enjoy life.)