wtffashionshark

Hallo Readers,

You can go on Google or Twitter or have a chat with the bloke in the local emporium or live in Canada or the US or Scotland and you will know the name of matey boy, the “celebrity” who frolicked with another couple in a paddling pool full of olive oil.  Oliver Oil, as we shall call him, is in fact attached to A N Other, who is even more famous than he is. Oliver and his partner, who have young children, admitted in court that they have an open marriage. Some years after the frolicking, Oliver’s two oily pals Pinky and Perky felt the need for a few readies and trod the well-worn path to the door of The Sun on Sunday, where they offered to reveal every slippery detail for a large cheque. However, when Oliver and his partner discovered the Sun’s plans, they were on the phone to m’Learned Friends before you could say “celebrity injunction” and the Sun on Sunday was stymied. The High Court held that there was no public interest in publishing the story and that it would cause great distress to Oliver, his partner and their kiddies. Yesterday, the Supreme Court ruled that the injunction would be continued. M’Learned Friends are again dancing around Lincoln’s Inn Fields in a state of delirium and eyeing up new motors and maybe another floor to their luxury dwellings.

The papers were of course up in arms. The Daily Mail practically exploded with outrage. If WTF had a quid for every time someone has used the expression “The Law is An Ass”, she would be sprawled across a sun lounger on some Caribbean island, sipping rum punch and turning the colour of stewed tea. (Actually, the expression comes from David Copperfield where Mr Bumble opined that “The law is A ass,” but I digress). WTF was also much entertained by quotes from Tory MP’s decrying the unfairness of the legal process, which is only open to rich people. Of course, Tories do not believe in the rich having advantages. Oh – hang on….

Here’s the thing, Readers. These injunctions are entirely pointless because everyone can discover your identity in the click of a mouse. Lining the pockets of M’Learned Friends is all well and good, particularly for M’Learned Friends, but it simply prolongs the agony. On the other hand, there is no public interest in knowing that Oliver was having jiggy-jiggy with Pinky and Perky in a paddling pool full of olive oil. If Oliver were the Archbishop of Canterbury, that would be one thing. But he isn’t. He is just someone famous with a dick and some odd tastes in sexual gratification. And look on the bright side – a lot of olive growers and grocers had a very big result…..

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We start our review of the week’s sartorial shit pile with singer Gwen Stefani, wearing Who Knows What.

I mean, this is a bad package of bad. An elongated pair of tights worn with cropped diamanté khaki trousers and sparkly shoes, like a member of Special Forces in drag at the Christmas panto. WTF also wishes to express her disapprobation for the hair, which closely resembles a badger’s bum.

Next up, we have young actress Chloe Grace Moretz, current squeeze of Brooklyn Beckham,  wearing Alexander MacQueen at the premiere of her new movie.

The frock is floppy and flimsy, as if it has been savaged by a particularly angry Alsatian. Although, to be fair, the Alsatian would be a fashion critic.

To the Cannes Film Festival and actress Julianne Moore, wearing Louis Vuitton.

Quite apart from the fact that white is so not Julianne’s colour and it clearly does not fit properly over the stomach, the dress itself is preposterous. The poor woman looks as if she has been put through the shredder

Now meet German actress Emilia Schüle,  wearing  Marina Hoermanseder.

The skirt is much too long and is dragging along the damp Red Carpet leaving a tide mark, but the real problem is the corset. If a pink latex sex doll went to a Game of Thrones party, this is what it would look like. 

This is actress Riley Keough, wearing Gucci,

Readers, sometimes a dress merits inclusion here simply because it is dog-ugly. Or, given that Riley is Elvis Presley’s granddaughter, hound dog-ugly.

Now we have French actress Vanessa Paradis, wearing the ineffably vulgar Roberto Cavalli.

Say bonjour to Vanessa’s, how-you-say, meenge. And to her ‘ips.’Orrible.

Every year at Cannes we are treated to Russian-person-who-does-not-d0-much-other-than-appear-on-the-Cannes-Red-Carpet, Elena Lenina, she of the mad hair.

Ming the Merciless meets Madam Butterfly meets Lady Penelope from Thunderbirds. The twig-things sticking out of her hair makes her look as if she has been caught in a thicket. If only she were still there…

Here is one of our perennial offenders, US actress Chloe Sevigny wearing Who Knows What…

There is a serious possibility that Chloe designed this excrescence herself, complete with a spotty crotch casement and a silken fanny flap, making her appear to be wearing very baggy drawers.

Our next person is model Bella Hadid, wearing Minge Maestro supreme, Alexandre Vauthier. Mind how you go with this one……

Yes, she’s gorgeous and leggy but there is just MASSES of minge. Something about Cannes brings out the Minge Moment in Alexandre… Emmanuelle Seigner, anyone?

Finally, we have actress Laetitia Casta wearing Atelier Versace.

Yurgle!  Spiderwoman moonlights as a swimsuit model. What a cobweb we do weave when first we practice to deceive…. the deception being that this is in any shape or form a dress. WTF is suffering from rampant arachnophobia.