It’s the second day back from vacation and I am already speechless:
I didn’t expect to be struck dumb until at LEAST the Golden Globes (next Sunday, dear God)! And I never expected the dumb-striking to be at the hands of Kellan Lutz (who is, himself, also both dumb and striking). But DUDE. A black suit in the same kind of drapey, sheeny material last seen in 1995, when we were all wearing cheap satin-y blouses that were knock-offs of Tom Ford’s Gucci collection? (I got mine at Contempo Casuals at the Westside Pavillion, a store no longer there despite the fact that it was featured in Clueless, because Los Angeles doesn’t care about historical preservation.) (I also saw a similar shirt modeled that same year at my local college bar by one Mr. Bill Maher, who does not, in case you were wondering, really pull off a ladies’ shirt. His was chartreuse. True story.) Why? Why is this? Why could this be? And who — WHO? — could possibly pull this off? Can you think of ANY MAN, Fug Nation? Any man who could wear this and not look a fool? Maybe Hugh Hefner. Because it’s like the Pajama Jeans of suits. But who ELSE? NO ONE.