As you know WTF is a battle-hardened old baggage when it comes to clothes. She would have to be, given that every Friday she brings you fresh examples of shocking sartorial excess but this week has brought an array of female body parts so repulsive that it was all she could do to retain the contents of her stomach. So before you read on, make sure that you have access to (i) a receptacle (ii) rehydration salts and (iii) the telephone number of a healthcare professional.
Once upon a time, female stars (people with talent and famous for that talent) would be photographed on the Red Carpet, probably showing some cleavage whilst looking sophisticated and elegant. Then several things happened. First, the definition of “star” was broadened to include all manner of nonentities, talentless bimbos from TV reality shows, soap actresses and slappers who had slept with celebrities, all of whom saw their chance to seize the limelight in dresses so small that you could stuff more material up a gnat’s bottom. It got worse. Female singers, even those with talent, decided that their careers depended on writhing about half naked and designers started creating dresses to accommodate the phenomenon of couture sluts. Everyone got into the act, from A lister to Z lister. We started with excessive cleavage. Then we got peekaboo. Then we got sheer. Then we got the Minge Moment and the Tooshie Twinkle. Now we have a combination of all of them. WTF was criticised last week as sexist for attacking women. Rubbish. It is a matter of principle. It is also a matter of self-respect. Women should be celebrated for what they do, not for what they display. Designers should be celebrated for making beautiful clothes, not for making women look cheap and desperate. To say so is not sexist. It is the very opposite. Of course you can show some cleavage or some leg (but not both, please). But when you go around showing it all whilst perched on tarts’ trotters, it does not create dignity or encourage respect. Oh, and it looks bloody awful.
On seeing the next two pictures on @WTF_EEK, @Hollylinny noted that she must have missed the memo directing that dressing gowns were now acceptable as formal wear. To which WTF replied that she wanted to know who wrote the memo. First we have Rita Ora arriving for a night out at the Chateau Marmont in LA.
This is a towelling dressing gown. The hood makes Rita looks like an extra from Mississippi Burning. Which is what she should have done to that dressing gown. And there is Rihanna who has a marked aversion to anything approximating a full outfit, which presumably is why she wore Alexandre Vauthier, a man incapable of sewing up a front seam, to a pre-Grammys party.
This a silk dressing gown. The gaping top exposes her horrible tattoos and the gaping bottom exposes the fact she has no knickers on. Vile. The Louboutins, however, are yummy.
There is something seriously wrong with those tits in that dress. They are as flat as a couple of Scotch pancakes.
As for the dress itself, it is a trashy version of what Flamenco dancers wear for the benefit of Torremolinos tourists out on an excursion designed to give them “the total Spanish experience”. Only in this case, the dress reveals the said Caledonian bakery products and a pair of knobbly knees.
As her avatar, @WTF_EEK has Ashanti wearing a red dress with what @debbiegregory4 (and that is your last mention, you fame-hungry thing) accurately christened a c**t strap. Ashanti has never been quite that bad again (unlike @debbiegregory4, of whom the same thing sadly cannot be said) but this Grammys effort by Dar Sara is dire.
Where to start? Her breasts are tumbling out of their tit-guards which also featured on Dar’s dress worn by Angela Simmons at last year’s BET Awards. Then there is the horrible yoni thing and the fact that it is way too short, exposing chunky thighs. Bad. Very bad.
It was only a fortnight ago that WTF brought you shocking strumpet Lady Victoria Hervey at the Golden Globes. And here she is again, this time at a Grammys after-party. Why hasn’t Obama had her deported? The roads to Los Angeles airport would be lined with cheering citizens. Was 1776 all for nothing?
This is in truth a musty net curtain displaying visible belly button (bad), Minge Moment (very bad) and silver slippers (incomprehensible). M’Lady, you are a talentless attention-seeker using up valuable oxygen on an over-crowded planet. Go away.
We pause for this week’s It’s Got To Go suggested by Sue from North London who complains – with every justification – about the announcements made by train staff. We used to be passengers. Now we’re customers. We used to get on and off at stations. Now they’re station stops. As opposed to what? Even if you could open the doors, how many customers are going to alight into a field? Every time you approach a station stop, you are reminded to take your personal belongings with you. Again, as opposed to what? Taking someone else’s personal belongings? Removing the luggage rack? And every time you leave the station stop, someone drones on about what train you’re on and where you’re going (a bit late once you’ve actually left), only to be replaced by someone else who recounts the full menu of hot and cold drinks and tasty toasted sandwiches with all the enthusiasm of Heston Blumenthal talking you through his new dish of snail and banana risotto with a reduction of sage leaves and an orange foam. This verbiage is annoying. It’s Got To Go.
Rather than changing his name and undergoing plastic surgery in a fit of shame, Andre tweeted his pride that Kaya had worn this skin-tight leather dress featuring double-split genitalia curtains, belly-button-bulge and hooker shoes. Classy…..but only on the Wan Chai waterfront.
Here’s the back.
Apparently Michael wanted to evoke New York covered in snowflakes but this is more like peeling plaster. The dress uses flesh-coloured fabric but Beyoncé is black, not grey and the visible seams make her look more scarred than Frankenstein’s Monster. Meanwhile, the last time WTF saw hair like that, it was on a scarecrow.
Finally if you have seen something worse than these two appalling bimbos at some Grammys pre-parties, you might want to consider counselling for PTSD. First we have model and Real Housewife of Miami Joanna Krupa, also wearing Michael Costello. This Michael Costello needs locking up. Fact.
Pretty as she is, WTF suspects that there is very little real about Joanna who admits to having had two boob jobs and several non-invasive procedures including blood injections, Juvederm to straighten her nose and lip injections. All of which sound painful but not nearly as painful as having to look at that dress although, unlike Beyoncé, at least the sheer fabric matches her skin tone.
And then we have the ghastly Paris Hilton wearing something from the Haus of Milani. Haus of Ill Repute more like.
Time was when you could not open a newspaper or magazine without seeing a picture of Paris but in the last few years she has been eclipsed by that other waste of space, Kim Kardashian. Now she is obliged to go out and about half-naked in order to get anyone to look at her at all.
Like Joanna’s effort, this not so much a dress as a full pelvic examination. Jaime Alexander started this horrible trend at the premiere of Thor late last year wearing Azzaro Couture. Even a gynaecologist would gag.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep those comments coming as well as your suggestions for It’s Got To Go and let us meet again next Friday.