are you the one? *actual ad* pic.twitter.com/bnfdwWg3em
— Planet Thickness (@bad_dominicana) April 3, 2016
A word of warning, pal: Don’t let her borrow your razor.
are you the one? *actual ad* pic.twitter.com/bnfdwWg3em
— Planet Thickness (@bad_dominicana) April 3, 2016
A word of warning, pal: Don’t let her borrow your razor.
The least-explicable picture of Sarah Jessica Parker I’ve ever seen showed up on a fashion site — I seem to remember it was InStyle.com, but I can’t remember the context — late last year:
Since the big news with SJP last year was with her shoe line, I’m thinking that shot may have been connected somehow, although there’s only one shoe in the picture, plus its reflection, and she’s not wearing it. I would have expected something more like this, from her Instagram last summer:
And I have to admit, I’ve been watching her for a long time, ever since L. A. Story in 1991, in which she played a pseudoditz named SanDeE*. (Not a footnote; the asterisk is part of the way she spells her name.)
That was, of course, half a lifetime ago. (SJP turned 51 yesterday.)
Yours truly, trying to be snarky, a week and a half ago:
Oh, right. Like Taylor Swift is going to be in Nashville these days.
Ryan Seacrest opened a new broadcast studio at Nashville’s Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt [Friday] with the help of a very special guest. Taylor Swift surprised the kids with a joyful experience to make the groundbreaking day even more memorable.
“It was thrilling to have Taylor surprise the patients, which made the day of our first broadcast at Vanderbilt even more special,” Seacrest told People. “She infused so much joy into the entire hospital community.”
Taylor Swift, infusing a little joy:
Cut to the end of the day, where she turns up at boyfriend Calvin Harris’ Las Vegas show:
“A flirty hem kept the bottom from feeling too short,” claims InStyle.
It occurs to me, having read @SwiftOnSecurity’s Cortana fanfiction, that this might well be what an anthropomorphized Cortana might look like.
Carol Alt, fifty-five, is still among the super-est of supermodels: when she was 43, AskMen.com decided she was #5 of all time, and at 48 she did a pictorial for Playboy. We oblige with a couple of slides from the archives, starting with a shot from 1997, when she was appearing in Howard Stern’s movie Private Parts, playing a woman on a plane who was not overly anxious to hear Stern’s life story.
And this dates to 2013, when she was debuting a health-oriented TV program on the Fox News Channel. It ran for a year and a half.
Those of us who follow her on Twitter (@ModelCarolAlt) have been treated of late to glimpses of her shoe collection. This pair of Valentinos stood out:
Although what I really wonder about is that helmet (?) sitting next to her.
Missy Peregrym was actually christened “Melissa,” but given her reportedly tomboyish childhood, perhaps she thought her given name was a trifle too girly. (As though “Missy” isn’t.) Born in Montréal in 1982, she’s done a few films and a whole lot of television. Her first starring role was Reaper on the CW from 2007 to 2009.
From there, she went to Rookie Blue, which aired for six years on Canada’s Global network and on ABC in the States.
Her most recent film was Backcountry (2014), a scarefest set in the Canadian woods. And if she needs a ride, all she has to do is call.
For those who must have video, here’s a 2014 interview from George Stroumboulopoulos Tonight.
Well played, George. I think.
Most of us, I suspect, remember Marilu Henner from her role as Elaine Nardo on Taxi, which ran for five years in the late 1970s/early 1980s.
Louie DePalma (Danny DeVito) had it bad for Elaine, and generally we found this to be perfectly understandable.
She’s now doing a radio show, and at 63, she still cleans up nicely:
In her early days as a presumably struggling actress, Marilu did a local TV spot in which she did not technically appear: in the final version, you see only a bit of lingerie floating across the screen, through the wondrous power of the traveling matte. Or something. I’m not exactly sure how it was done circa 1970. One of these days I should probably ask her about that, since it’s a virtual certainty that she’ll remember every last detail:
By contrast, I couldn’t tell you what I had for dinner a week ago Tuesday.
Kristinia DeBarge, twenty-six today, is the daughter of James DeBarge, of that well-known musical family. (James was married, briefly, to Janet Jackson, but this isn’t Janet’s daughter: that marriage was annulled several years before Kristinia’s birth in 1990.) About the time her 2009 album Exposed came out, she looked something like this:
“Goodbye,” the hit single from Exposed, climbed to #15 on Billboard’s Hot 100 and moved enough copies to be certified platinum: despite its kiss-off nature, it’s kind of fun, and it’s powered, so to speak, by Steam:
It’s possible to imagine someone not singing along with the chorus, but it’s not easy.
She hasn’t sustained the success of “Goodbye,” but she’s stayed busy; she’s featured on “Let Go,” a 2014 hit in Scandinavia by Finnish rapper (!) Redrama.
I have no doubt we’ll hear from her again.
The pitch for these boots: not only do they come in three lengths — in the same boot! — but they’re a whole lot less noisy. To illustrate, a video that’s occasionally a bit loud:
Joanne Gignilliat Trimmier Woodward, as of this writing, is the second-oldest person in Wikipedia born on the 27th of February: she’s 86 today. She did a whole lot of Golden Age television, and won the Academy Award for Best Actress in 1957 for The Three Faces of Eve, in which she played a woman with dissociative identity disorder — what we used to call “multiple personalities.”
In 1960, she was among the first group of celebrities honored on the Hollywood Walk of Fame; she was the first to pose for a photoshoot with her star, which has led to the belief that hers was the first star on the Walk, which it wasn’t.
She and Paul Newman were married for fifty years, until his death in 2008.
Which may explain the dedication in Lucky Them (2013), Woodward’s most recent film, in which she has a small voice-only role and an executive-producer credit: it’s to Newman, “an inspiration, mentor, cheering squad, and darn good reason a gal could still have trouble finding a gent to fill his boots.”
A bit more than fifty years ago, it occurred to me — the actual circumstances under which this happened, I couldn’t tell you — that a female of the species with her legs crossed at the knee had about 150 percent greater distraction potential, at least from my insufficiently-vantaged vantage point. Years passed before it occurred to me that this action of theirs also took up extra space. At the time, I didn’t much care. Then again, I’m not the guy running a fashion show:
If you’re lucky enough to sit front row at a New York Fashion Week show, you can expect cameras in your face, celebrities by your side — and being told to uncross your legs.
At the Michael Kors show Wednesday, actress Blake Lively refused to comply with the photographers’ “crossed legs rule,” causing quite a stir.
Lively sat front row alongside her mother and friends Naomie Harris and Riley Keough. The group was personally told by company chairman John D. Idol to uncross their legs before the show began, but none of them listened, Zap2It reports.
Although Lively is justly renowned for her gams, this isn’t a distraction issue:
Front-row attendees are commonly asked to uncross their legs before shows begin to keep the runway clear for shots.
“It’s for the photographers,” a “fashionista” tells Page Six. “People’s legs get in the way … it messes up the shots.”
I pulled a few pages out of the archives, and either compliance with this rule is marginal at best, or the paparazzi are getting their celeb shots before the models come out.
Addendum: As long as we’re on the subject of Blake Lively’s legs:
If you believe those hacks from the Daily Mail, the “perfect” female celebrity has exactly these legs.
In the summer of 1964, the peak of the British Invasion, there was still a place on the American charts for non-white non-English non-boys, and into that place, as smoothly as could be, slid Nancy Wilson, who made it to #11 with “(You Don’t Know) How Glad I Am.” It was a jazzier piece than its florid arrangement might have let you think; “I wish I were an artist,” she sings, and you think, “Oh, honey, you don’t have to worry about that.”
She pulled off this not-quite-nerd-girl look quite effectively, leaving Capitol, her record label of the day, with the task of trying to glam her up without overdoing it. Sometimes they even succeeded:
At the end of the Seventies, she cut an album called Life, Love and Harmony, which yielded “Sunshine,” an excursion into funk that today is highly prized in the Northern Soul scene in, um, England.
Still, her roots are in jazzy pop and/or poppy jazz, as we hear as she runs through “How Glad I Am” at Newport in 1987:
Still an artist, of course. She retired from live performance in 2011; today she turns seventy-nine.
Several kind folks live-tweet red-carpet events, so I got several looks at this slightly strange garb worn by Taylor Swift at the Grammys yesterday:
The dress, such as it is, comes from Atelier Versace, and those are Stuart Weitzman heels affording her a four-inch lift she hardly needs. Add to that the Sia-sideways bob, and TS is giving us the full WTF. Said the ever-bristly Quinn Cummings: “Why is Taylor Swift wearing a fluorescent censor bar?”
So I moved in for a closer look, but by then she was guarded by squad members. In this particular case, it’s Selena Gomez:
You might want to keep these pictures in mind, just in case Vogue’s Anna Wintour ever becomes a zombie: she’s gonna look exactly like Taylor, give or take several grams of makeup.
British-American actress Emily Blunt — she was born in London, but took US citizenship last year — turns 33 next week, and she’s been working almost constantly for over a decade, though I didn’t catch her until 2006, in The Devil Wears Prada. (Stanley Tucci, also in Devil, is in Real Life™ married to Emily’s sister Felicia.)
In 2010, she married John Krasinski; they have a daughter and are expecting a second child this year.
And this family stuff may have suggested to her a side career as a voice actress: she voiced Juliet in Gnomeo & Juliet (2010), she’ll be heard this year in something called Animal Crackers, no relation to the Marx brothers’ original, and next year we (at least I) will hear her as an as-yet-unidentified character, presumably equine, in an actual My Little Pony movie.
“Two words,” said the not-entirely-cryptic email from McGehee. “Lauren German.”
I drew a blank on the name, then did the usual Binging about. After stints in Hawaii Five-O v2.0 and Chicago Fire, she’s just started Lucifer, the title character of which is the one-time Prince of Darkness, graduated to the next logical plane of existence: running a nightclub in Los Angeles. Lauren plays an LAPD detective, homicide division, who occasionally works with ol’ Scratch to solve crimes. This is not, I am assured, a reality show.
Lauren German, of course, is quite real:
Her Wikipedia bio states: “In 2001, German was selected as the world’s 47th-sexiest woman in Maxim.” I never have been able to figure out how they quantify these things. But after looking at some of the pictures from that era, I’d say she hasn’t exactly deteriorated in the interim. Deal with the devil? I report, you deride.
There’s nothing like an American election to make me appreciate European royalty. (Make of that what you will.)
The lady in question is Mary, Crown Princess of Denmark, forty-four, married to Crown Prince Frederik, the heir apparent to the Danish throne. She doesn’t look especially Scandinavian, which is probably due to the fact that she was born in Tasmania, off the Australian coast; His Royal Highness met her in a pub in Sydney during his visit to the 2000 Olympic Games, and they were wed four years later. (In 2003 she started taking Danish lessons, for perhaps obvious reasons.)
The couple have four children, the youngest (just turned five) a pair of twins. I am, of course, delighted to see that Her Royal Highness can rock the LBD:
Okay, it’s not all that black. Big deal. Mary is the Patron of the Copenhagen Fashion Summit, and if she says it’s black — which she hasn’t, actually — I shan’t dispute her.
After shooting off my mouth about the beauties of Chucktown, I figured the least I could do would be to provide an example thereof. The name that immediately came to mind was Lauren Hutton, born in Charleston in 1943, though she grew up in Florida and graduated from Tulane.
Never married, Hutton is still considered a brand-name model in her seventies. I suggest it’s because she never addressed her alleged deficiencies, detailed in a Harper’s Bazaar profile when she was thirty:
Lauren is anything but a classical beauty. Her nose flies west, her mouth flies north, she can cross her left eye at will. She made herself beautiful by learning, watching, willing — not by surgically altering her defects.
And when she got to be my age, well, she looked like this:
That Letterman-ish tooth gap was something she was advised to conceal early in her career. After a few unlovely efforts, she decided the hell with it. Very wise, I think.
Regular readers long ago noticed that I tend to put up a lot of pictures of women with nice legs. This is of course due to the fact that I tend to notice such pictures, and having noticed them, I find it relatively easy to generate some sort of text narrative. (Ah, the power of inspiration.) With that in mind, here’s singer Carly Rae Jepsen, a favorite in these parts — “I Really Like You,” from her E·MO·TION album, was my favorite single of 2015 — showing up on the red carpet at the People’s Choice Awards:
Tomorrow, she’ll appear as Frenchy, one of the Pink Ladies, in Fox TV’s production of Grease! Live. For the occasion, Billboard circulated this photo of the Pink Ladies in costume:
Either I’m going blind, Jepsen is playing Frenchy as an amputee, or some foolish, feckless Photoshopper deleted her right leg.
Note: Per @SwiftOnSecurity, Adobe objects to the term “Photoshopper.”
Ages over 21, anyway:
— Jeff Faria (@PatriotsOfMars) January 27, 2016
I imagine it’s about the same reason we non-celebrities are similarly plagued, with the additional proviso that celebrities who are not so plagued — see, for instance, Zooey Deschanel — are considered to have “fat knees.”
Doesn’t mean, of course, that ZD is always going to look like this. (If nothing else, it encourages saving pictures; this shot is probably two or three hairstyles ago.)
Reading the actual Scottish Daily Mail article, incidentally, cost me 99 cents through PressReader: the not-Scottish (and therefore crap) Daily Mail doesn’t provide a gateway to this edition. It quotes a physician who blames sarcopenia, the loss of muscle mass that afflicts those of a Certain Age, and perhaps afflicts celebrities worse because they’re trying so hard to be thin and spindly. Included with the article was a shot of Angelina Jolie cranked down to Maximum Knob, as seen here, and examples which are, incredibly, even worse. (Do not go Googling any recent shots of, say, Catherine Zeta-Jones.) This is the sort of circumstance, I believe, that calls for a somewhat-lower hemline; however, Hollywood types are not known for taking my advice, and very likely never will. I do not know if high-heel abuse is a factor here, though it seems at least somewhat possible, given the distortions of the frame that seem inevitable with the elevation. The physician suggests that if you can’t rise from a seated position without using your hands, you’re already on the wrong side of the scale; for me, with my architecturally questionable knees, it depends on the height of the seat. Then again, no one, I’m quite certain, is wanting to see my legs, which, this being the dead of winter, are, in Johnny Carson’s phrase, “the color of a born gosling.”
Carol Burnett was on the cover of Parade this past weekend, and while surrounding her with kids is always a nice touch — you hope one (or more) of them will turn out to be the triple-threat star she’s always been — what grabbed me, given my age and predilections, was along the lines of “Damn, that’s a nice pair of stems for a woman of 82.”
I duly dived into the archives, and found these:
This last picture is from a revival of Once Upon a Mattress, a 1959 musical for which she won a Tony Award. There have been three television versions: I’m guessing this is the 2005 take, the one in which Burnett plays, not the hypersensitive princess, but the devious queen.
Addendum, 30 January: And apparently she has the temerity to show up at the SAG Awards in bedroom slippers, and fuzzy bedroom slippers at that.
“One of these days,” I said to myself, “I’m going to do a post of nothing but Bai Ling tweets.”
This is the day. Enjoy.
— Bai ling 白靈 (@RealBaiLing) January 9, 2016
— Bai ling 白靈 (@RealBaiLing) January 11, 2016
— Bai ling 白靈 (@RealBaiLing) January 14, 2016
Like this ? 😜🎥🎬🎵💃💃 pic.twitter.com/Z6mi9xv6cj
— Bai ling 白靈 (@RealBaiLing) January 16, 2016
A chronic hashtag and/or emoji abuser, she is, but I’ve never regretted following her.
I sit through live tweets of the red-carpet arrivals of things like the Golden Globes because, well, sometimes I get stories like this one to pass on.
This is Bryce Dallas Howard, resplendent in Jenny Packham:
Contrary to usual Hollywood practice, she did not borrow this gown from Packham’s atelier. It’s not the way Howard plays the game: “I like having lots of options for a size six as opposed to maybe one option, so I always go to department stores!”
As it turns out, she’d bought it last week from Neiman Marcus for $4800, which, as red-carpet gowns go, seems almost comically inexpensive.
Checking the archives, I see that she’s generally done a good job of finding her own frocks:
Maybe this one was a wee bit small for a six:
But no matter.
About three years ago, I did a piece on the French unmentionables company Clio, finishing with this paragraph:
There exists an Australian brand called CLiO — usually typeset that way — which is, to my knowledge, not related to the French company. This is not the most unheard-of thing I ever heard of, either; the down-under CLiOs can be found at Target stores in Australia, which have no connection with the Target stores in the US.
This Australian ad, and their Web site, indicates that CLiO is these days selling through Woolworths Limited, an Australian firm which is not actually related to other stores of that name worldwide — where have we heard that? — and through Woolworths Big W chain.
I do marvel at those shoes.
Their Facebook page occasionally coughs up some memeworthy commentary:
I understand. Really I do.
That is not my approach to relationships. But is it cool to write the narrative of a girl who’s crazy but seductive but glamorous but nuts but manipulative? That was the character I felt the media had written for me, and for a long time I felt hurt by it. I took it personally. But as time went by, I realized it was kind of hilarious.
So is Swift messing with her audience’s heads? Given the absurd variety of pictures of her one can find circulating on the Net, I think their heads will be messed with regardless of what she says.
I’ve found it more useful to accept what she says at face value and leave it at that; it’s not like I want to know, or need to know, her innermost secrets or anything.
That said, Taylor Swift does keep her story straight. The making of “Blank Space,” live and unplugged:
And you’ll note it’s the same four chords she always uses: the high-dollar producers she hired were there mainly for their technological gloss. There’s something sort of comforting in that.
For me, this began with a piece on TTAC about the decline of CD players in new cars. The thread proved to be a fertile one for practitioners of the “You’ve probably never heard of them” comment, although one such mention did actually arouse a grateful-sounding response:
That made me google [Akina] Nakamori whom I’d never heard of. Watched a YouTube of “Shipwreck” and was astonished to hear a J-pop singer who didn’t sound like one of the Fruity Oaty Bar voices.
This caught my attention, of course, and I immediately dialed over:
“Shipwreck” dates to 1989, by which time Nakamori had been a name brand in the Japanese pop market for seven years. Says Generasia of her:
As a singer Nakamori came to be known for her mature yet rebellious style and powerhouse vocals, but also for her ever changing image both visually and musically as opposed to the conservative J-Pop scene. Nakamori is also known as “the queen of tragedy” because most of her songs have a serious or sad tone unlike the normal happy and carefree sound heard in pop music. She was highly success from her debut to 1989, when she attempted suicide after a failed romance with Kondo Masahiko and due to stress induced by the invasive tabloid media. Even though she has never regained the same success, she has still managed to carry on a steady career.
And at 50, she’s not going away any time soon:
Last summer she cut “Unfixable,” one of her few English-language releases.
Noomi Rapace, thirty-six today, made her name playing Lisbeth Salander in the three Swedish films made from Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy, starting with The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo in 2009. (Interestingly, the Swedish title was Män som hatar kvinnor: “Men who hate women.”) Her first Hollywood blockbuster was Ridley Scott’s Prometheus.
The surname “Rapace,” incidentally, is French (and Italian) for “bird of prey”; Noomi and Ola Norell selected that name for themselves when they wed in 2001. (They split in 2011.)
Rapace has also appeared in music videos, including this weird little Luc Besson epic for the Rolling Stones in 2012:
Perhaps she just looks, um, musical; she’s slated to star in two upcoming biopics, one about Maria Callas, the other about Amy Winehouse.
Turkish actress Selen Soyder was born on this date in 1986. She’s done several soaps, and in 2007 she was named Miss Turkey, going on to the Miss World pageant, where she didn’t place.
About three years ago, she cut a single called “Dance Again [Hareketli].” No official video was made, but someone put a video together based on existing pictures of her, plus oversized captions lest someone extract them.
More recent photos were assembled into this video:
She seems to stay out of the news, though there was one incident where she is supposed to have stolen the boyfriend of another actress.
Andrew Crossett has been collecting votes for the Best Celebrity Legs of the Year for nineteen years now, and this year, I figured, it was just a question of how far out in front that amazingly tall singer of country songs who no longer sings country songs would end up.
And the answer is not at all, because Crossett’s poll, for the second time ever, ended in a tie. (This was the first time.) Sharing this year’s title, singer Selena Gomez, another graduate of the Disney School of Pop Princesses, who has a pretty fair stage presence in her own right:
Before you ask: five-foot-five. And an offstage glimpse:
“Good for You,” the big hit from her Revival album, sounds very much like — um, nothing she’d done previously. It was shortened a bit to make the video:
Seven writers (including Gomez) and five producers. I suppose that’s good for someone. And if you don’t quite get those visuals, there’s always Instagram:
Seems understandable enough.
What do you say about a 45-year-old woman who doesn’t for a moment think she’s glamorous? Based on these two shots, apparently you don’t say a word: you just point to the wardrobe and start the camera.
Tina Fey’s expression here says basically “This is as close as I get to sultry, so from this moment on, you’re on your own.” Then again, this is a woman who once said “I actually have a very low level of Flintstones knowledge for someone my age.”
She also admits to having been a prototype of the Mean Girl, as a coping mechanism: “In your mind it’s a way of leveling the playing field. Though of course it’s not.” Then again, comedy was a coping mechanism:
“For me it was about hitting age 13 and realizing, ‘OK, I’m not going to glide by on looks. I’m a normal-looking person, but that’s not going to be where my bread is buttered.'”
Which explains, perhaps, why she’s always working: she’s afraid to loaf.
Today I begin my 26th year of freaking out over stuff. pic.twitter.com/HjWAE7sluQ
— Taylor Swift (@taylorswift13) December 13, 2015
This, of course, implies that she didn’t freak over anything in her very first year. Which may or may not be true.
Anyway, this is Taylor Swift’s 26th birthday, and she spent much of it on a plane. Leaving Australia:
And landing at LAX:
In terms of “freaking out,” I suspect rather a lot of Swifties responded badly to this incident back in the spring:
The 25-year-old singer released a photo Saturday [14 March] showing a nasty cut on her heavily insured left leg — a wound apparently inflicted by her feline Meredith.
“Great work Meredith,” quipped Swift. “I was just trying to love you and now you owe me 40 million dollars.”
Nine months later, she’s fine, so far as I can see, and believe me, I’ve looked.
They’ve turned Carly Rae Jepsen into a Sim:
— Carly Rae Jepsen (@carlyraejepsen) December 10, 2015
Which I find sort of amusing, since at times she actually looks like a Sim, as in this campaign a couple years back for Candie’s:
And I suppose that’s not a bad place to be after you’ve turned 30, which she did this year:
Entertainment Weekly picked Carly Rae’s E·MO·TION album as second best of the year; I can’t imagine them being off by more than one.
Oh, and the upcoming Gimmie Love tour will not stop here in the Big Breezy, but she’ll be at Cain’s in Tulsa on the 7th of March. Hmmm…