>> Dear Nicolas Ghesquiere,
Just because you run over a poor pigeon on the way to work doesn't mean it has to be the inspiration for an entire part of your Fall 2005 collection. I mean, I know you saw it smushed up against the grating of your car, and it was somehow beautiful and tragic at the same time, but the rest of us just don't see it that way. Sometimes, it's okay to just let things go. Let's look at it this way: you put roadkill on your dresses. Roadkill, man. Next time, if you have to, go for the discarded snakeskins. Much classier, trust me.
Let's start with you, J. Conn. Just because the dress is Balenciaga, doesn't necessarily mean it's looks good. Use your beautiful mind, woman. If it looks trippy when you're not wearing it, it probably won't magically look spectacular once you are (no offense, but you don't have a fairy godmother). And I know you're not trying to cover up the fact that you don't have breasts - you have two kids - there's gotta be something under all those feathers. We'll let it slide this time, since you were at the MET "Costume" Institute Gala honoring Chanel. Really, if anything, you were doing Miss Coco a great dishonor. She's probably turning in her grave - with time, and if you're fashionably blessed, she might be able to bring herself to forgive your trespasses.
You next, Charlotte Gainsbourg. Okay, you, dearheart, wore the same fucking dress at Cannes over a week after J. Conn. This means you had over a week to read about everybody's reactions to the dress (and I'll give you a hint: they weren't good). You also had a week to realize that you were going to wear a freakin' swan on your chest. Yes, dear, they are pretty birds. Just not plastered to your front - that's not what they were made for. Remember the Bjork Swan Fiasco of '01? Not an event you want to emulate. Didn't your mother ever teach you to wear something that flattered your face, rather than take attention away from it? It's called elegance...sophistication... Go for it next time, sweetie.
And last but not least, you, Sharon Stone. Doesn't your basic instinct tell you anything these days? You know that old saying: If at first you don't succeed, try, try, again. It just doesn't work in this case. What about that Mensa genius you're reputed to have? Your IQ (or conscience...or something!) should have been screaming, "No, Sharon! Put the fuck-ugly feathers down!" I appreciate that you like flaunting what you had for dinner the night before, but really, Sharon, do ya have to wear the plucked turkey feathers? You looked great (especially considering you're 47) from the neck up, but then I looked down. Try not to run afowl again.
Love and kisses,