If your only impression of Miley Cyrus is that she’s the one with the tongue and the abs, this won’t change that.
It might, however, make you wonder if she she just robbed the house of a lesser pop band member from the late ’80s/early ’90s — say, the anonymous third guy in Bros — who was too busy writing nostalgic poems in his Filofax about the good times his lower half had in this outfit, calling them things like “Ladder Pants (Climb To Me)” and “Mesh Helps Your Junk Breathe” to notice his prize was being pilfered from him.
And there’s more, a nildly NSFW way:
Decals? Sharpies? Temporary tattoos? Surely not anything one pays for to cure Nippleitis (or else she should get her money back), but rather something she chose to enhance it. Except instead she looks like a “DON’T” photo goofily censored by a lady mag. Which actually works for me, because, seriously everyone: DON’T.
Which reminds me, have we discussed her album cover yet?
But that’s also kind of my point. Aside from the silly name and abuse of the mighty letter Z, I can’t figure out WHY they decided to go with such an ’80s retro neon peachy living-room feel — except that I heard she raps on the album and maybe it evokes the glory days of Tom Cruise and Bryan Brown standing on bars slurring impromptu poetry about drinking. But if the album doesn’t also include Elisabeth Shue’s perm and at LEAST one sample of Bobby McFerrin, then I’m not sure it can deliver on its promises.