Dear Jared,

Do you watch Girls? Even if you don’t, even if you hate it, there was a brilliant line recently wherein Hannah described their terrible friend Desi as if “someone in the Pacific Northwest knit a man.” I realize the current Gucci collection — which you are sure to wear more of as the weeks go on — evokes that homespun, hand-crafted fellow crossed with SWINTON on peyote, multipled by a rich dude who considers robbing businesses just because he resents having to pay for things. And I get that, by those standards — and even measured against this absurdity you already did wear — this outfit is pretty benign. But you are at the freaking Vanity Fair Oscar party. In an undershirt and a knit hat, staring at me for all the world like you believe my nose just got up and walked over to my right ear and sneezed in it. Why do you look like the self-proclaimed president and sole bodyguard of the Hollywood Hackey Sack Club? Why don’t your pants understand ankles? By night are you a detective who specializes in solving crimes committed in macrobiotic eateries? Please advise. Otherwise, I shall start a Go Fund Me to acquire a ladder for… well, you know what to do.