All of Cannes was aflutter last night when Michelle Williams made a surprise appearance on the red carpet to promote her new movie Synecdoche.  Michelle has always had a very unique look; either you think she’s gorgeous or you think she’s, well, not so hot.  The heavy black eyeliner on her lower rims here accentuates her interesting eyes, making her look both doll-like and also sort of sad (and that has nothing to do with her personal life, as the lower-liner literally drags her features down).  A bit of extra black on the outer part of her top lids and in her crease would look lovely next to the peach shadow and would also open up her eyes slightly.  The colors, as well as the perfect brows and glossy salmon lips, however, are magnifique.

Photo from Usmagazine.com

Hey, why not?  It’s Friday and I’m feeling tired; looking at pretty photos is all I can really handle right now.  

I think Madonna looks beautiful and all peachy-glowy, but I’m not digging her roots

Diane Kruger’s hair and makeup are stunning, and so is the dress in theory, but it does nothing for her (gorgeous) figure.  Can we call a moratorium on potato-sack dresses, even super-expensive gilded ones?

Mary J. Blige is gorge…but no smile?  You’re in Cannes, my dear!  Lighten up!

Rose McGowan is crazy witchy here; all she needs is a broomstick and caldron!  Regardless, the red hair is stunning against her pale skin

I don’t understand Dita Von Teese’s appeal; can somebody please explain to me?  (Maybe I just have a mental block because the Blogger Who Shall Not Be Named loves her.)  Gorgeous dress, but the jet black hair is too harsh, especially when combined with blood red lips and markered-on eyebrows

Natalia Vodianova is a fascinating example of the “takes gorgeous photographs” versus “is actually pretty in person” conundrum; she’s one of the most beautiful models in the world, yet whenever she’s on a red carpet, she’s verging on plain.  Love her anyway!

Natalie Portman looks every inch the Audrey Hepburn-inspired ingenue at amFAR’s Cinema Against AIDS fundraiser last night at the Cannes Film Festival, with a glamorous-yet-simple updo, softly flushed cheeks, and perfectly-lined eyes.  Perfection!  (Is it just me, or does it feel like the Cannes festival has been going on for months now?)

Like seventy-nine billion other people, I watched the finale of American Idol last night.  Unlike seventy-nine billion other people, I did not get a chance to actually see who won until about five minutes ago.  D. and I DVRed the finale, which cut off (thanks, Fox!) at precisely the wrong moment.  So, the Jolie household sounded like this last night:

(Ryan Seacrest speaking from TV): “The winner, by 12 million votes, of American Idol 2008…is….Davidddd—” Delete.

(Jolie and D. yelling like maniacs at the top of their lungs): “NOOOOOO!!!!!!”

We had to check People.com to discover the winner.  Damn technology!  Although I was a little nervous that David Archuleta would throw himself off a building if he didn’t win, he seems to be handling it well, and I’m definitely happy that Chris Daughtry David Cook won in the end. 

Would have totally thrown my training bra at little David when I was twelve, but now that I’ve made it through puberty, I find rocker David quite sexy, even with the belly peeking out above…
Photo from People.com

Something about these fawning “How I Got My Body Back!” cover stories that celebrity weeklies love featuring makes me feel all icky inside.  How did you get your body back, new celebrity mommy?  Well, you probably worked out with a trainer three hours a day, six days a week, hired a nanny while at the gym, followed a sparse plan set by a nutritionist, perhaps had a tummy tuck and then ate 900 calories in the two days before your photo shoot.  That’s how you got your body back. 

Photo from USmagazine.com

It’s no secret that I’m a sucker for the English royals.  So, while it’s not getting much press on this side of the Atlantic, I’ve been carefully following the story causing English newspapers to wet themselves: the backlash caused by photos from last weekend’s wedding of Peter Phillips to Autumn Kelly.  Here’s the scoop: Hello! magazine paid 500,000 pounds (about a million dollars) to Peter and Autumn, who are both commoners without titles.  Peter, however, is the Queen’s grandson, not to mention the first English royal of his generation to marry, and so the public interest in his private wedding was high (although, let’s be real, people probably just wanted to see more pictures of Kate Middleton).  Royalists feel that the deal was tacky, and are angered by photos printed of the Queen and the wedding guests. 

I think the hullabaloo is incredibly dumb.  With public support for the Monarchy perennially precarious, it should be a no brainer: photos will only drum up positive publicity for The Firm, not to mention allow Peter and Autumn to pay for the incredibly elaborate ceremony they were all but required to throw, but couldn’t possibly have afforded otherwise.  (The wedding was neither paid for with taxpayer pounds, nor by the Queen.  Were they supposed to fete themselves with the Prince of Wales, the Queen and other senior royals in attendance on their own “normal person” salaries?  What kind of backlash and sniffs about “respect” and “propriety” would that have drawn?)  We’re living in modern times (duh), not the Victorian era; yeah, selling photos is tacky, but I think the royal nose-upturning (I’m sorry, but did the Queen not just do a huge spread in Vanity Fair with Annie Leibovitz?) is even tackier.  If the Queen, Prince Charles et al. desire things like this to remain private, then they should become private citizens and not take any taxpayer money.  Otherwise…sorry, but in our modern society where the English Monarchy is really a tourist-and-charity draw and little more, events like a “royal” wedding are not only fair game, but the very reason a dwindling minority of us even care in the first place.

Photo from Hello!

Photo from DailyMail

I wonder how many of you roll your eyes when magazine articles insist hysterically that, down the line, there will be Hell To Pay! for not wearing sunscreen.  I do it myself; if I’m flipping through Glamour and come across a decidedly non-glamorous feature on skin cancer, I usually think, “Gross!” and then flip the page.  Maybe I’ll skim it, maybe I won’t.  (C’mon, I prefer reading the sex tips.)  So, a few days ago, when I asked Dr. Solieman and Dr. Litner to do some UV imaging of me (inspired by my experience at the Total Beauty conference), I felt confident it wouldn’t be that bad.  I’ve been addicted to sunscreen for years (my old favorite was DDF Organic Sun Protection SPF 30; my recent love is Obagi Nu Derm Healthy Skin Protection SPF 35), and while I lapsed for 12 months or so in Palm Beach, surely my years of anti-aging serums and broad-spectrum filters would have served me well.  Here is the normal “before” picture:

And here is the scary “after”

Wear your sunscreen, kids!!!!

In honor of yesterday’s FiFi fragrance awards, please indulge me for a moment.  I would like to send a plea to perfumers (or more accurately, to the beauty conglomerate executives who greenlight this nonsense in penthouse boardrooms above Fifth Avenue) to stop being so damn lazy with their fragrances.  Season after season, scent lovers are bombarded not only with inane EDPs from celebrities that have no business “creating” juices, but also with updated, slightly tweaked versions of old perfumes saddled with names just like! but different from! the original.  Loved Stella McCartney?  Hey, try Stella McCartney Sheer Stella!  Were you a fan of Givenchy Very Irresistible?  Try the Givenchy Very Irresistible Givenchy Summer Cocktail!  Not really a fan of the apple-and-mandarin candied scent of the original Ralph?  Maybe you’ll like Ralph Rocks!  Or Ralph Cool!  What about Ralph Hot?  Ralph Wild?  Ralph Insanity?  (Yeah, I made that one up.) (more…)