In some ways Glenn Close is the Helen Mirren of TV: She looks great, she’s still doing awesome work, and she frequently nails it on the red carpet.
Frequently, as in, not always.
This just looks like a giant painter’s tarp — and not one that’s particularly well-draped, either. As my friend Carrie said, “You have to hoist ‘em and help ‘em, Glenn,” and sadly, pretty much everything below Glenn’s shoulders is issuing an unheard S.O.S. Her alter-ego Patty Hewes would investigate this crime so fervently that at least three other outfits that are friends with this dress will end up dead within forty-eight hours, and another will be arrested trying to flee the country with a suitcase full of pins and a crisp Andrew Jackson.
However, at the pre-parties, it was so much worse:
YEOW. Looks like Robin Hood’s mother is in town to make a few home-cooked meals, slosh some mead into mugs by the fireplace, try unsuccessfully to get Will Scarlett to unsheath his arrow, and then wake up the next morning between Little John and Friar Tuck.
Oh, don’t be so coy, Mama Hood. We know you’re the one who gave Little John his nickname.