The Emmys are, in so many ways, without much distinction. They don’t cast as wide a net as the Golden Globes, which honor both movies and television. They aren’t as glamorous and revered as the Academy Awards. They don’t even have a specific niche, like the Teen Choice Awards or the Country Music Awards. It’s people on television praising other people on television, on television. You’d have to have all the free time of a three year-old to watch all the nominated shows and miniseries, yet we watch. We cheer for “Homeland” because we, too, were teenagers who loved Baz Luhrmann’s “Romeo + Juliet” and we’re curious about “Girls” because we’ve kept meaning to watch it but, really, who has HBO these days?
And then, to top it all off, my friend Shauna wrote a post today on her blog about being a lover, not a fighter, online. It was characteristically thoughtful and deliberately kind, and how can I write a post critiquing what the stars wore when I, too, aspire to be a lover? Unless! Maybe the most loving thing to do in this situation is tell the truth. Tell the truth in love, of course. It’s what Christians do best. See? I’m already being sarcastic. Relevance and hipness of the awards show aside, my moral rectitude aside, I am reminded of the old chestnut about the show going on. Sorry, I’m starting to sound like Bertie Wooster, which is a sure sign that I should move on to the meat of this post and thank goodness, I am not referencing a dress. Let’s dig in.
Julie Bowen looked great, her sexy-messy hair perfectly complementing the simple structure of her chartreuse dress. Sexy-messy, that is, as long as you didn’t get up too close, at which point her hair was just messy-messy.
The dress itself was spot-on for the Emmys, though. Playful and fun and with enough green to keep it from looking like a giant swipe of highlighter, I thought it looked great on her. There were tons of Monique Lhulliers and J.Mendels out last night which, if you know too much about fashion, you know means lots of girly dresses and pretty colors. No one in particular had a Gwyneth-Paltrow-Tom-Ford-cape-dress moment, but then again thank God, because Gwyneth Paltrow is the worst.
One of my favorites of the night – and continuing with the bright colors trend – was Leslie Mann, also known as Mrs. Judd Apatow. But more rightly known as Leslie Mann, so don’t ever call her that!
Her dress was, as one of my favorite websites put it, “what would happen if Palm Springs turned into a dress.” And it’s true! But classy Palm Springs – 1960s Frank Sinatra golf and tennis Palm Springs, not Lily Pulitzer dinner at 4pm Palm Springs. And who doesn’t love Palm Springs? Don’t answer that, I know plenty of people don’t like it. But they’re probably all very, very sad people. Because one thing I love about this dress is how happy it is. It’s just fun. Exhibit A that a dress/person does not take themselves too seriously: POCKETS.
(Aside: Sometimes I tell Zack that I want to renew our vows now that Anthropologie has launched a bridal line and the Huntington, my favorite place on earth, is allowing weddings on-site. 3 years isn’t too early, right? Anyways, I am mostly joking except that I have picked out BOTH a ceremony and reception dress for the renewal and they BOTH HAVE POCKETS because how cute is that, and who doesn’t need pockets?)
The turquoise jewelry is just the right touch, visually interesting without being overwhelming or competing with the delicate beadwork of the haltered bodice. Speaking of which! Were you worried that when she turns around you will See Everything? So was I. Fret not, though, the front is lined in nude fabric.Her virtue is untarnished, but why are you talking about her virtue? It’s 2012.
We can all agree on one thing here: Pirating television shows is a bad, bad thing. Under no circumstances would my kind and beautiful sister have pirated Season 2 of Downton Abbey just so that we could watch it months before everyone else in America. Under no circumstances did I beg her to do the same with Season 3, which is currently and cruelly airing in the UK while embargoed here in The Colonies until further notice. (January.)
The only thing crueler, in fact, than said embargo is Lady Mary’s dress. It must be said. But it does solve at least one mystery, kindly :The foreknowledge of this dress is what killed dear Mr. Pamuk in Season 1.
She is gorgeous. The kind of woman about whom men say things like “marvelous creature” and “stunning.” And this wrinkled sack is doing her no favors in that department. Maybe she borrowed her cousin’s prom dress that she forgot to iron after the humid afterparty at Chicago’s Navy Pier, which can really wreak havoc on a girl’s prom dress. Maybe she left the dress crumpled in a ball until the morning of the Emmys in some strange attempt at humility or self-sabotage, just to give all the other ladies a chance.
Either way, the result is nothing short of disastrous. No wonder Matthew Crawley looks so pained and bereaved throughout the Season 3 trailer. The color is actually really lovely on her, and uncommon on the red carpet. But I just cannot get behind this train wreck.
If you were following me on Twitter last night, you already know that Julianne Moore’s dress was one of my favorites and has made it high on to my list of all-time favorites, which I may just compile for your edification one of these days. This color on a girl with red hair is to die for, and the shape of the dress is so womanly and unique. I love the full skirt, love the tight bodice, love the long sleeves, and mostly love the contrast of her fiery hair and pale skin against the goldenrod color.
Sentimentally, I’m still most attached to Nicole Kidman’s Dior at the 1997 Oscars. It’s an all-time classic, a hall-of-famer if we were talking about something (so inconsequential as) baseball. Seeing a redhead wear color well is for me what a Rockies World Series victory is to my husband, or a Cubs pennant for my dad. (I mean, we’re still waiting on that last one.) She looks flawless, and she looks comfortable in her own skin, and at an awards show that is the holy grail.
(Confidential to my female readers: her husband is a fox.)
In what I can only assume is a strange and mean-spirited invocation of the great childhood tradition of Opposite Day, Harpers Bazaar featured January Jones as one of their ten best-dressed from last night’s Emmys. “High drama,” they called her look.
You know what else is “high drama”? Betty Draper. And do you know how many people like Betty Draper? Zero. Negative. Negative amounts of people like Betty Draper. She is petty and mean and has sharp edges and just when you think you see through to her true character, you realize it’s been an illusion all along. THIS DRESS IS BETTY DRAPER, don’t be fooled.
Look, even though walks around with a portable IV bag of her own placenta, I’m sure January is a nice, normal person. I’m sure there are people who look at her and think “What a nice, normal person!” But I am not one of them. Because I see her and I am 99% positive that she is an alien from another planet, probably the planet in Mars Attacks!, which I guess is Mars. She’s a beautiful and seductive robot who is never happy but knows how to smile because she got Martian lessons and she is going to destroy us. You just watch Jon Hamm turn into an automatron. I don’t think she even has joints.
Regrettably this has to be over at some point, and I think that point has come.
Other honorable mentions: Tina Fey, Mindy Kaling, Jessica Lange (!!!!), Glenn Close’s face, Gretchen Mol, Allison Williams, Elisabeth Moss (who looks great as a blonde!), Lena Dunham (who looked aggressively beautiful), and Emily van Camp.
Dishonorable mentions: Julianna Marguiles in a duvet cover yanked from a Motel 6 at the last minute, Claire Danes who looked like she was wearing a bathing suit coverup, Kristen Wiig who is apparently allergic to any color that is not beige or ecru, and Tami Taylor, who was not looking good, y’all.
Most-repeated-dress mention: Edie Falco in the same Stella McCartney donned by Gwyneth at the Grammys and featured in my mom’s PEOPLE Magazine from last week for being worn by everyone in Hollywood. Edie looked great, but you know, sloppy seconds or sevenths or something.