Ladies, feast your eyes on this, the apotheosis of men’s wear. Of Man’s man’s wear.
This breathtakingly tasteless spectacle is Indian money lender Datta Phuge’s original design. Atop a base of white imported velvet (not that it matters, but who the hell imports silk velvet to India? From where? As if India ran out of silkworms!) the short-sleeved shirt is woven with solid gold threads, at a cost of about $22,000, and adorned with Swarovski crystal buttons. Really? Am I the only one thinking that overpriced rhinestones on a solid gold shirt is just a freaking cop-out? Gimme some beryls, some lapis lazuli, at least some peridot!
Now, setting aside the obvious fact that the shirt is just gawdawful, let us examine the stated goals of the shirt:
- to attract women
- to advertise Phuge’s money lending business.
There’s no question that the shirt will succeed in achieving the first of these, although once he gets to know them he’ll probably conclude he’d rather draw flies. It doesn’t take too many avaricious good time girls to go through an entire stack of gold shirts at a nightclub.
As for the second, it is really the men’s casuals version of the Hummer I used to see driving around Vancouver, plastered with bumperstickers for SavingYouMoney.com.
We need to have a little chat with Amanda Seyfried’s stylist. Congratulations on the cantilevering job up top (sponsored by Wonderbra?), but down below it appears that someone couldn’t make up her mind between going as a flamenco dancer or an ice dancer. The extra-floppy hip flange looking like the underside of a mushroom with a tumor is just overkill.
Sure, sure, Paris may be six months ahead of New York, but it’s clear from this picture of socialite Tamara Ecclestone at the Skyfall premiere, London is a year behind LA. Surely this must have been a deliberate pose.
No, really. I mean, it’s too much to imagine that there’s been a rash of “pee down your leg on the red carpet” bets lost in the past few months.
On the one hand, it’s great to see Docs back. On the other hand, THIS. Thanks, Alicia Auaa.
Beleaguered and possibly unbalanced starlet Amanda Bynes has stopped the hit-and-run madness that terrified SoCal drivers, and has developed an intriguing sideline in hanging out in bathrooms and changing rooms for hours at a time, only to emerge feigning surprise anyone finds it odd. Nothing to see here! Nothing except the fact that the woman is literally walking around New York City with her shirt tucked into her underwear. I’m pretty sure that is probable cause enough to get you Bellevue’d.