Gosh, I wish Lady GaGa had gone to the Golden Globes, then at least there would have been something to look at.
The red-carpet at this year’s ceremony was beige, botoxed and booooring. Now, I love a fabulous couture frock more than most. Tulle, corsets and vintage diamonds are enough to make me swoon but after a decade of vanilla, almost earnest choices in award-show dressing, I’m nostalgic for some of the fashion mavericks of old.
Who can forget Bjork wearing a taxidermied swan as a dress? Or Celine Dion in a white tuxedo worn backwards. With a hat. Demi Moore in a bedspread complete with built-in bike shorts.
These were the risk takers, big stars with a brazen attitudes. And no stylists. It was these women that made the red carpet a sport. Imagine cricket with no classic catches? Or Rugby without rucks. An award show without fashion road-kill is depressing.
These days the mega stylists and movie studios ensure that the most you can expect is the odd wardrobe malfunction.
Visible Spanx, a rip in a train or maybe some crazy cleavage. On Monday night that award went to Mariah Carey whose boobs needed their own chair.
But the single shining light in last night’s sea of safe was Cher. Or someone who looks a little bit like Cher used to look.
The actress still carries the crown for best-ever award show dressing. Lots of skin, lots of feathers, lots of visible g-strings, Cher has brought many a fancy dress moment to the carpet. Last night she didn’t disappoint, opting for a black, velvet medieval inspired gown. Complete with corset and strange braiding. Think Maid Marian back from the dead.
It’s fitting that Avatar won best picture last night. Infact, I wonder whether James Cameron put a subliminal message underneath the dialogue track (heavy metal style) because Hollywood stars are starting to look like one big caricature. Beige, Botoxed and did I mention - boring.
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