While the Met saw many a soft peen last month, last night’s CFDA Awards at Alice Tulley Hall were graced with an abundance of tree chopping action (a special thanks to John Jannuzzi, for providing Man Repeller with a new metaphor to describe boner killing, deflating penis and the like). At the Met, it just so happened that the most man repelling looks of the night were also our favorites–Petit Recap: pregnant fur, emaciated penguin, Bollywood loving, liquid leather latex and some puffy.ass.sleeves. The CFDA awards put up a good fight and some of our leading ladies (read: chronic offenders) stayed true to their roots and let their freak flags fly. See below.
I’ve had a lesbo crush on Dree Hemingway since she debuted at Paris Fashion Week wearing pink tips on her hair and enormous cat-eye sunglasses. She helped me come to terms with and finally verbalize my chronic illness now known as Man Repelling. I hereby dub her, MR’s poster child. Last night, she wore a white pant suit, one not unlike the karate clothes my brother wore as a child. She also had a ninja string around her head. Move over, Karate Kid.
Chronic offender number two: Alexa Chung. One time I told my co-editor I wanted to look like Alexa Chung and she told me that was the reason I don’t fornicate on the regular. Personally, I don’t see why weighing 41 pounds and wearing a long sleeved-duty length dress with a sequin bow tied around the chest is wrong. But it is. My grandmother exudes more sex appeal. And a note about the shoes: unless you’re auditioning for Dancing with The Stars…or doubling as an old lady, that squared-toe heel needs to die.
Any female posing with and wearing Philip Lim will inevitably make her way into Man Repeller’s hall of fame. So Irina, you’re wearing a leather tank top with a cream colored jumper-gone-gown. Correction: leather tank top with cream colored jumper-gone-gown is wearing you. I’m going to go ahead and confront the elephants in this room: 1. There’s a velvet belt plus flower around your neck. 2. You need to eat a sandwich.
New York City is hot and Thom Browne doesn’t want you to forget it. If Leonora Carrington’s short story “My Flannel Knickers” could talk, it would talk at you, Tom.
Betsey and Lulu Johnson are puffing around like it nobodies business. I’m not sure if we’ve ever addressed this, but now is as good a time as any…this Japanese hair straightening shit you have going on, bad. Come on, Bets. How can a woman with the initials BJ repel the recipient of a BJ so hard? Give us what we want! (PS. Shoe porn alert! I want to have sex with your Alaias)
And finally, I throw Iris Apfel in for good measure. She is a total loony tune. My office just took a poll and voted unanimously (me, included) that Iris is a pretty accurate foresight into the future of my aesthetic. I can’t wait.
All images via WWD’s Eyescoop
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