Both these ladies are so, so subtle.

Yes, clever thought, Katy — we’d NEVER have been able to see those if you hadn’t hunched. Especially because you’re so habitually shy about them.

“But wait,” she notes. “I am not the ONLY person in this matchup with boob-presentation issues.”

Oh, honey. If you are on a cruise ship, or your own pool deck, or at a resort, whatever. But you are SHOPPING in an ITALIAN TOWN with a SEE-THROUGH CAFTAN and a tiny bikini top whose spaghetti-thin string holding it all together is an exercise in the most fervent of optimism.

She had the opposite problem with this dress:

That thing is trying to hold them in with all its might, while somewhere, the designer — one Ms. Victoria Beckham — is probably weeping from all the concerted wishing that Jessica had just asked for one a size or two larger. It is no longer a dress. It is a prison.

On the squashy tip:

And yet, in some dresses, I end up begging for her to hoist them up more. Like this atrocity from Coachella, and this:

That triangle is like a giant arrow pointing in the direction in which it also pushing her chest. Or perhaps it is just saying, “Scroll down, because things continue to be distressing.”

Let’s not mince words: This is bad. It is proof positive that sparkles cannot save you. They are not a life raft. They’re just a diversion until you learn how to swim.

Also, the bowling shirt of a 300-lb man named Little Pete should NEVER, EVER be your guide, unless you are a 300-lb man named Little Pete who can roll above 200 every time and is in need of a pro league.

However, there are few things as depressing as staring into the sad, betrayed eyes of a spotted feline as its face is unzipped.

Denim-on-denim is pretty upsetting, though, it’s true. Then again, so is this:

This isn’t though:

Just kidding. For something the color of sunshine, it and its wretched fit have cast a remarkable pall on my day. Actually, if you’ve noticed, all these entries have devolved into, “This is crazy, and so is this, and WHOA WHAT IS THIS, and YIKES,” because things are more intense in the Sweet Sixteen round and it’s such an endless ring of fuggery that after a while all cognitive powers leave me and I just want to rest my cheek on my keyboard.

So of course, Katy Perry comes in to try and cheer me up:

And it works, because it is hilarious that she wore that voluntarily. Poor Canada. Such a lovely country, full of wonderful people, and that’s all Katy has to give it? Don’t they deserve something that doesn’t look like a roving gymnastics gang’s signature head scarf?

Want more? Are you a glutton for punishment? From Katy, there is the light-up dress she wore to the Met Ball, her maxi-pad outfit, Admit One, the blue wig and nude sparkles of infamy, the dots, plus all of her performance outfits. For Jessica, there is a lacy pile of NO and lamentable pants and a big Oh Honey No… let’s face it, Katy has a whole lot MORE in her archive, being as she’s perhaps a bit more in-demand these days, so it’s on us to decide what blend of quality and quantity will push which girl through. Stomach what you can, and then vote yourself silly.

Whose fug reigns supreme?

  • Katy Perry (44%, 6,258 Votes)
  • Jessica Simpson (56%, 8,031 Votes)

Total Voters: 14,278

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