THE RED CARPET
by:Trisha Evelyn
Awards season has come, and with it, an undeniable envy for runway-worthy fashion.
The awards are supposed to be what the night is about, but sometimes it’s the dresses that cause chatter the following day. Exhibit A: Maggie Gyllenhall’s dress at the Golden Globes. I’m still not sure how I feel about it.
The best part is that for every amazingly styled celebrity slinking across the red carpet, there is a devastatingly awful one grasping for fame via the edge of a reporter’s camera.
Yes, there she is, in that hideously over-accessorized gown that makes her look average-size, as opposed to star-size. If only she wasn’t being interviewed by Ryan Seacrest — how is that guy famous anyway?
It feels like some kind of high school reunion, where you see people you haven’t seen in a while and wonder who is pregnant, who is married, who grew facial hair or who had unfortunate cosmetic surgery done.
Then the inevitable question arises: who are you wearing?
I wonder if anyone makes it up. Sometimes a washed-up celebrity you haven’t seen in 15 years will say, “Vintage Valentino.”
But really?
These people never have to elaborate on their lie because a real celebrity just arrived and is shuffled along to the next microphone.
Sometimes I wonder if these mock-stars even have tickets to the event. You never see any of the forgotten ones inside because who is going to care what Pauly Shore’s reaction to “Best Actor in a supporting roll” is?
People have been fairly risky so far in their fashion choices, from Renée Zellweger’s suggestively-revealing Carolina Herrera ensemble, to J-Lo’s “I can’t believe you had twins” suggestion of a dress.
Whether you love it or hate it, these garments are the ones to watch for. I don’t care how beautiful anyone looks in a strapless gown — I want to see something exciting.
The entire awards season puts my closet in a harsh perspective. Instead of sequined gowns and plunging necklines, I am treated to wool sweaters and faded denim — hardly an equivalent. Fantasies will have to do, I think, as I yank whatever is closest to me off its hanger.
