I was perusing some of these photos from Fashion’s Night Out in NYC last night and some of them made me take a step back and say to myself, “Are these real people? Like really real? Are you f@%#ing with me, New York Magazine??” (I only swear in my mind. Plus, this is family-friendly blog. Meaning my relatives are the only ones who read it.)
Are you giggling right now? Me too. I think Whitney Port also finds it hilarious that Hank Azaria drank an entire bottle of Benadryl and showed up dressed like a Harry Caray impersonator who also happens to be an Oompa-Loompa. Thank God he has her bosom upon which to rest his seemingly 100 lb. head. (No, this isn’t actually Hank Azaria. It’s Guiseppe Zanotti. Yeah, I’ve never heard of him either.)
Again we have the wayward Mr. Zanotti who seems to think that “self-consciously wistful” is the appropriate facial expression for the moment. I love him. But when did Jessica Rabbit become a brunette and start wearing pants? Or is that a blow-up doll?
STOP it. This is obviously an alien. That or David Bowie is on his death bed, in which case I apologize for my insensitivity.