I am getting TERRIBLY BORED of how freaking great Marion Cotillard looks at all the Inception premieres:

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Seriously. I’m so glad for her that she’s all gorgeous and French and chic and whatnot, but where does that leave ME, I ask you? It’s July: Celebrities have all locked themselves in their beach cabanas for the duration, thinking little of what we who chronicle their clothes must go through every day, as we labor desperately looking for someone — ANYONE — wearing something that’s not a bikini and doing something that’s not drinking a cocktail on a yacht. Could one of you famous bitches do me a solid and wear something heinous out of the house? Uggs layered over a satin jumpsuit? A leather short-shorts romper paired with clogs and a chef’s toque? A pleather catsuit with the butt cut out, covered in silk-screened photos of Luke Perry? SOMETHING. (Hey, I made Ellen Page wear green simply using the powers of my mind. If someone shows up in that last one, I’m going to start taking requests.) In other words: you look great, Marion, and you’re NOT HELPING.


“Hello? Did someone just ask for someone to leave the house wearing
a heinous jumpsuit?”

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“I live to serve!”