The woman in this photo is SO texting someone to say, “Mon dieu! I am sitting behind BLAIR F’ING WALDORF at the Chanel show. It’s like we are on the Met steps and she’s about to dump yogurt on an underling who dared to wear tights as pants! I am totally going to be all over the blogs tomorrow.” And indeed, her prophecy came true.
I enjoy that Leighton is taking subtle steps to point toward her gigantic Louboutins — like, unless she is about to run her hand up her leg as part of a plea to get America to invest in some Nair, that finger is totally designed to draw your eye down to the red sole, and thus, draw Mr. Louboutin into thinking she is such an awesome model for his footwear that he’ll give her twenty more pairs. Genius, Meester. Genius.
Let’s check out the rest of her outfit:
I lean toward “fab” very firmly here — it’s fierce in a very Karl Lagerfeldian way, like, you can practically hear him standing behind her and cooing, “Under-buttock is for the tragic, darling
. THRIVE.” I do wonder if the necklace gilds the lily a little — it’s a showpiece in and of itself, and it doesn’t entirely get its due slapped in top of an already-fierce black leather dress with gold trim everywhere. And yet here I am, staring at it, so conversely perhaps it has accomplished its mission. Oh, Karl. He is never one to do anything in moderation. Why add a necklace, when you can add something that looks like you jacked it from a Buddhist temple during a trip to rural China? Why one tassel when you can have three? Why just a necklace, when you can have matching cuffs? He might reply, “Moderation is like prison for the nape, pet. EJECT.”