It always takes me a second to recognize Andrea Riseborough, partly because she changes her hair a fair bit, but mostly because her face has the look of classic historical portraiture and so whenever I see her, I first think of museum walls. Subtract the orange lip and the hint of smile, and she could be a stand-in for anyone of a number of Queens or noblewomen who’ve been painted in regal Tudor headdresses, for example. Someday, there will be a huge museum scandal in which it’s revealed that all those old paintings are actually forgeries someone did using pictures of Andrea as the basis. Anyway, she popped up at a V&A event — to look at herself in the galleries, perhaps! — in this very slinky, sparkly number, which is a complete scrolldown because it starts out so nicely and then ends in Clumpy Bedsheet, as if the whole design aesthetic was, “You got home from a gala last night and passed out on your bed, and now you’re tangled up in the sheets and desperately wishing that your Brita pitcher would sprout legs and walk to you.” But it’s the high-fashion reef shoes that get me. No, not shoes. Neon foot-baskets. Let’s call it like it is. They’re hideous! I yelped! I FEEL SO ALIVE.
