I mean, I guess it’s a dress, right? A dress that unfortunately got one of the Golden Girls‘ robes stuck in the belt as Julianne hurriedly buckled her belt or something? And she said, ‘Man, screw it; I’ll just flip this weird, tapered kimono sleeve up over my shoulder and hope no one notices.’ Right?
And I thought no dress could be any more ghastly than Kathy Hilton’s channeling of Scarlett O’Hara at whatever function she was attending other day. You know; the black chiffon southern belle dress with the white bows and the off-the-shoulder neckline that made her upper arms look like pigs trotters. Whatever would make Julianne Moore wear this abomination, one cannot imagine. She either has no stylist, or her stylist is secretly her worst enemy who harbors a slow, simmering rage, and bears her ill will. It’s not just the dress; the bizarre hemline makes it look as if she has the legs of a welterweight – a male welterweight who apparently does not wax. The shoes are not dissimilar to an alcohol monitoring bracelet. The evening- bag looks as if she ripped it off of Joan Collins, or she crocheted it herself. And then there is the matter of her hair. This reminds me of one of those “half man/half woman” ensembles one of my cross dressing friends used to wear at Halloween.
“Ma’am, the auditions for ‘Gladiator II’ are down the hall and to the right.”