Best horror show? The frocks
Lisa Armstrong
What should be the most glamorous event of the year was a sartorial washout. Our Fashion Editor blames the stylist
Good heavens, there were some gorgeous dresses out there. What a shame not one made it to the Kodak Pavilion for the 78th Academy Awards. For six months I’ve been mentally ticking off all the sensational, exquisite red-carpet gowns that have wafted past me on their way down the catwalk, wondering which would make it to the Golden Globes or Oscars. The shimmering tulle from Alberta Ferretti? The chic silk satin columns from Chanel couture with their waterfall of ribbons down the back? Christian Lacroix’s light-as-air empire lines? Alexander McQueen’s to-die-for frock coats with the chinoiserie embroidery that looks as if it has been stitched by elves? Come on, ladies, if you can’t wax rhapsodic about a frock on Oscar night, then what’s the point of the rest of us staying up until 4am to watch you?
This is, as we’re constantly reminded by a torrent of hyperbole, supposedly the greatest showcase for frocks in the galaxy (the first question all those reporters at the event ask is “Who’s it by?” And they don’t mean the director). These are fabulous-looking women, so how come the outfits on display on Sunday night looked about as exciting and sophisticated as a bridalwear convention at the Birmingham NEC? As for some of the men’s decisions to sport the white satin tie on black shirt combo, a.k.a. the bouncer of a dodgy Bournemouth nightclub look, it’s just plain wrong. And we thought Philip Seymour Hoffman was a class act.
At least Hoffman and his fellow bouncer Gavin Hood (director, Best Foreign Film) looked ourtrageously bad. Moments of high drama, good or otherwise, were sparse. No wonder everyone got so excited by Reese Witherspoon’s vintage Dior doily. For once the V word was apt (unlike the Chanel frock she wore to the Golden Globes in January, which had been seen two years earlier on Kirsten Dunst, an actress even younger and skinnier than Witherspoon). This time Witherspoon was taking no chances. The Dior was 51 years old, making it highly probable that the last woman who wore it would be considerably more wrinkly than Witherspoon. The problem was, the 1955 Dior showed its age, and not in a good way. There are scores of featherweight modern versions of 1950s ball dresses (a style she evidently loves) with lighter constructions that would not have swamped her delicate frame, the way this monster did. Why wasn’t she in one of them?
You can’t necessarily blame the actresses. As Keira Knightley says: “You feel like a prize poodle on the carpet. You can hear the commentators giving you marks out of ten as you approach. One woman came up to me and said ‘Seven’.” No wonder actresses hedge their bets and opt for the plainest, least controversial black thing they can (Rachel Weisz in Narciso Rodriguez: she’s seven months pregnant and beautiful whatever she wears. He’s Mr Good Taste: neither she nor the frock looked as if they were having much fun). That’s assuming that they even know what options are out there, which they probably don’t because they’re too busy learning lines and getting under the skin of Jane Austen heroines, or gay cowboys’ wives. That’s why they (or their studios) pay Hollywood stylists hefty sums to go shopping on their behalf. And what a half-baked, sloppy job their stylists did this year, producing an endless parade of the bland leading the bland. A case in point: who put Jennifer Aniston in a slim, black, fluttery Rochas dress that may have been subtly stunning in real life but looked so-so on TV (which is what it’s all about)? Uma Thurman looked like a goddess in her pale-gold Versace, but pale nude colours can look washed-out. Stylists should know these things. Why was Naomi Watts not told that her gauzy, fusspot of a Givenchy dress was puffing out unflatteringly over her washboard tummy? Who let Madonna leave the house in a not very pretty-in-pink strappy knee-length dress in expensive but tacky-looking jersey silk? She’s looked more glamorous taking Lourdes to school. And why was Charlize Theron wearing a crow on her shoulder? Questions, questions.
Admittedly some frocks managed to be bland and unflattering (who put Felicity Huffman in a dress with cleavage that plunged so far south it was in danger of molesting Australia?) or bland and silly, silly, silly (enough with the trains, Jada Pinkett Smith;let the fin de siècle meets Cavalli obsession go). Another reason not to do trains: it’s more crowded than a Stella McCartney debut at Hennes at that Vanity Fair party at Morton’s — the trains get stepped on, bows get crushed and bunions pinched as everyone lunges for the free ciggies piled up on the bar and a photo op with Steven Spielberg. No wonder this year Lauren Hutton changed into trainers for Morton’s.
The rocks
Living up to her claim that it costs a lot to look this cheap, Dolly Parton wore Fred Leighton earrings worth $1,200,000.
Bling doesn’t have to be limited to necklaces, bracelets and rings: Three 6 Mafia, who won the award for best movie song, had their teeth adorned with diamonds. Estimated cost? — $100,000. In 2002, Whoopi Goldberg made the ultimate faux pas. Wearing an 80-carat Harry Winston diamond pendant, she noticed that the jewel had gone missing. Thankfully, a delving security guard found it in her cleavage.
The goody bags
The kudos of winning an Oscar is one thing, a complimentary luxury holiday to Honolulu worth $25,000 (£14,000) is quite another. The four-night trip, including a 24-hour butler service (lest the winner lift a finger), is just a quarter of the estimated $100,000 value of an Oscar goody bag this year.
Also included is a $2,500 gift card for a Manhattan spa, Tahitian pearl jewellery, a holiday to Las Vegas, botox vouchers, a private dinner party worth $1,500 at Morton’s steakhouse, laser eye surgery and two nights’ stay at New York’s famed Carlyle Hotel.
And where, one might ask, do the lucky stars keep their loot? In a custom-made tote by the British designer, Anya Hindmarch, of course. Using two iconic images from the Vanity Fair photography archive, the bags have the extra adornment of a luggage tag embossed with a personal message from Graydon Carter, Vanity Fair’s editor, which states: “See you Sunday night at Morton’s — Graydon.” Last year, two more bizarre gifts in the winner’s goody bags were injectable collagen and a king-size mattress, which certainly puts a new spin on getting your beauty sleep.
Beauty measures
This year many actresses were in total command of their sweat glands. Not only were they paralysing offending under-arm pores, but injections were being administered to the lower back, inner thighs, hands, back of the neck and even the cleavage. Mud masks weren’t enough for Teri Hatcher, who not only had a $1.5 million massage that included having 18-carat diamonds placed on her energy points but also enjoyed a Natura Bissé Diamond DNA infusion facial. Stars wanted lighter face make-up to combat a super high-resolution TV screen on the stand that is ruthless in finding facial flaws.
Thanks for that!
