Hello, hello, hello!!!
Can you believe how long it’s been since the last time I was in your inbox?! Ok, I know it’s only been two weeks, but it felt like an eternity and I’ve sincerely missed yelling at you all about pop culture and subjecting you to the ugliest clothes I’ve borne witness to lately.
Since we last spoke, Fran and I have been in the deep backwoods of Maine exclusively clad in a wardrobe of neon orange apparel. And yes, I will now be wearing the traffic cone-hued beanie emblazoned with a deer head I purchased up there all winter long. During my trip, I perfected the art of the Thanksgiving leftovers sandwich. I took Fran on her first hike and she, in turn, nearly pulled me back down the mountain on my butt sled-dog style. I had what was quite possibly the best cheeseburger of my entire life. And, most importantly, I expanded my repertoire of silly crafting abilities to now include felting. Felting is actually so easy to do it’s taking every ounce of my self-restraint not to create an Etsy shop out of this newfound skill and ruin it for myself in the process. I also learned that felting would be an incredible hobby for those with serious anger management issues. Forget a rage room, try stabbing a piece of wool ten thousands times with a barbed needle, my friends.
For those wondering, I’m also officially back on my Gilded Age bullshit. By which I mean I’ve been letting that absolute nothing of a period piece lull me into a serene, zen state and sweep me away to a land where the biggest problems in life are who you’ll be seated next to at the dinner table and the finer points of floral arrangement. Do I have any recollection of what happened in the first season aside from Carrie Coon crossing that street? No, I do not. Do I know a single character by name?? Absolutely never. But in the wise words of Aretha Franklin, “Great gowns, beautiful gowns.”
This week I’ve also been prepping my abode to accommodate numerous friends and strangers as I’m throwing a party in celebration of one year of dog ownership on Saturday. In anticipation of these Fran-iversary festivities, I’ve definitely gone a touch overboard with the decor, but my god do I love a theme. I will be serving hot dogs and punch out of a drink dispenser shaped like a fire hydrant. I have gold balloons that simply proclaim “FRAN!” And I commissioned an Etsy artiste to craft the most gorgeous perfect t-shirt known to mankind:
Oh! I should also plug that I wrote two end of year pieces for The Cut that you might be interested in reading. One is about how all the celebrities started dressing like Julia Fox in 2023 (and Julia actually shared it!). The other is about how celebrity fast food collaborations are getting increasingly weird in an attempt to keep you interested. And I would highly recommend clicking on that link if only to witness the oddly Juergen Teller-esque photoshoot Reneé Rapp did for Sweetgreen. I also have an article about extreme naked dressing in the pages of Elle’s new Women in Hollywood issue. I remain absolutely stunned and amazed that I can say that I have anything in a print fashion magazine of that caliber. That story will also go up online sometime in the near future and I’ll make sure to share it with you all when it does as it’s obviously deeply Mess-coded.
Finally, paid subscribers of this newsletter not only got a special pre-holiday edition of Mess, but they also heard from me earlier this week because during my Thanksgiving meal, I received a piece of gossip about a high fashion brand so juicy I could not hold it in for another solitary second. So if you’re desperate to know what scintillating intel the residents of Vacationland have to share about the current business practices of a certain luxury label from Par-ee, please sign up for that ASAP. I also have about 200 more important things to discuss with you all in Sloppy Seconds next Tuesday.
Ok, but enough dilly-dallying. Time to talk shop
I suppose I should start by explaining the absolutely disgusting title I gave this week’s newsletter and I do apologize for it, but I simply can’t look away from this train wreck of a man. For those who need their memory jogged on who this absolute specimen is, Bryan Johnson is the tech guy spending all of his money trying to reverse the aging process so that he’ll live forever. And unfortunately, what we’re learning is that a side effect of living forever is also looking increasingly unwell/unhuman as time goes on. As part of Bryan’s immortality process, he used to get regular blood transfusions from his teenage son, although he’s since stopped because apparently it wasn’t doing anything. Very cool father-son bonding experience for both of them though, I’m sure. But then in November, he announced that he has started giving his blood to his 70-year-old father to try and reverse his dad’s aging process as well. But the thing about Bryan is he can never just announce these types of immortal guinea pig developments in a normal way, he always has to make it even weirder than it already is by doing things like adding the completely unnecessary statement, “I am my dad’s blood boy.” And I haven’t been able to get that phrase out of my head all week, so I must now inflict it on all of you as well.
Bryan’s entire project is fascinating because it’s clear he completely and utterly believes in his ability to create endless life. Meanwhile, for the rest of us, this project gives off the palpable feeling of watching Icarus fly straight into the sun in slow motion. I do hope he makes some incredible scientific breakthrough and is able to help people with all sorts of illnesses by tinkering around with his own plasma and hyperbaric chambers. But I can’t escape the feeling that we are watching a multi-millionaire’s Gift of the Magi-inspired performance piece about an attempt to outrun an extreme death phobia and missing out on living an actual life in the process. Regardless, I’m loving the ride.
Since we’re on the topic of the performativity of wealth, by now, I’m sure you’ve all seen this absolutely grotesque nuptial display from the Mercedes-Benz plant heiress and her betrothed. A spectacle that really just proves, as always, that these people do not know how to spend a penny of their fortune correctly. That said, it should actually be illegal to spend $59 million on anything let alone a singular event, both for the fact that, you know, people are dying, Kim, but also to protect these newlyweds from their own worst impulses. Because I feel like the rest of your life together is bound to be a disappointment after balling quite so hard on that one special day. Especially when you are marrying someone who was indicted on three counts of assault of a public servant earlier this year and is facing 25 years in prison. But perhaps that’s just the naivety of a non-multi-billionaire talking!
Anyway, much like the Lauren Sanchez Vogue gifting situation I brought up two weeks ago, while you might think the most egregious crime taking place here (aside from the actual crime of assault, of course) is all the wealth hoarding these people are doing, it’s actually that they hired Maroon 5 to play at their reception. As Countess Luann has warned us time and time again, “Money can’t buy you class!”
Now, as for EmRata in a pair of pants twice the width of her body, this is the type of editorial fuck up that really bums me out because it just feels like the fashion industry can never learn even the simplest of lessons in how not to be needlessly rude and insensitive to people. I mean, it’s 2023, we should all know better than to have a supermodel do The Biggest Loser cosplay by now. Far too often fashion acts like Michael Scott in sensitivity training and I always just wonder at what point we start actually integrating these lessons in inclusivity and make real behavioral changes instead of just paying lip service to them to make a quick buck.
Moving right along. I’ve been a big fan of Peyton for a minute and it is exactly these types of incisive cultural observations that make her one of the best in the biz. She is absolutely correct. For the non hyper online amongst us, this is a photo of The Bear star Jeremy Allen White and pop star Rosalía having a smoke break together in the midst of rumors that they’re dating. And after witnessing the casual ankle hook Jeremy’s doing here, I think it’s safe to say those rumors are rumors no more. The foot positioning here speaks absolute volumes about the intimacy transpiring between this duo and, as I told Peyton, this detail alone could launch a thousand Wattpad erotic fan fics. Finally, a hot celeb couple that actually feels like they’re fucking!
As for our hot celeb couple that does not exactly feel like they’re fucking, I do still love this girlfriend of a movie star pivot for Gigi Hadid. As I wrote above, I also think 90s Gwyneth Paltrow is an exceptional wardrobe reference point for her, as well as her hair colorist. I know Gigi is the queen of a weird pant and a loud print, but I would love to see her lean more into this type of classic minimalism as I feel like it just underscores exactly why she’s one of the biggest models in the world.
Besides, she has Bradley now to take out all of that creative styling energy on, as she’s clearly already been doing. This is the look of a man who has been Gigi-fied from head to toe. These items all could’ve been plucked straight from her wardrobe. Because they certainly didn’t come out of Bradley’s considering I have only ever seen him wearing a gray or a navy blue item one could purchase at their local Brooks Brothers. Maybe a chino if he’s feeling a little spunky. In fact, prior to this, the closest he ever got to a color was an Eagles jersey. Also, if they want us to buy more into this relationship, my one piece of advice would be for Bradley to chill a little on the pap strolls wearing Gigi’s cashmere brand Guest in Residence. We get it. You have the hook up. Celebs love to do this type of branded outing for one another and while I’m sure it moves units it makes the relationship feel very promotional (please recall Pete wearing Kim’s first men’s Skims collection in their Instagram soft launch). But at the same time, I guess somebody’s got to keep that knitwear brand afloat.
In other famous boyfriend news, this disturbing piece of information recently came to my attention. I feel like it’s the Mess curse that as soon as I finally warm to a certain celebrity the very next week I find a piece of incriminating evidence that ruins them for me all over again. In this case, Travis Kelce’s very unfortunate hometown friendship with one MGK. Although, now that I think of it, I do want nothing more than to see Travis and Taylor Swift have to go on a double date with Megan Fox and MGK at a Cheesecake Factory in Ohio. Maybe Taylor could even help Meg turn Pretty Boys Are Poisonous into a Broadway musical! Ok, never mind, I’m back on the Travis train again.
And as an extremely tall person, I’m just feeling a little attacked by this image of 6’5” Travis Kelce standing around a bunch of average-sized people in a Kansas City Trader Joe’s. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it in this newsletter in the past (most likely in regards to Jacob Elordi standing next to his 5’ tall Priscilla co-star on the red carpet), but images like this always give me such an acute reality check on how tall I actually am and what that looks like to other people. Granted both men mentioned here are still a few inches taller than me, but not that many inches, ya know. I’ve always been surprised by how many people remember me after meeting just one time, and it’s suddenly all starting to add up for me.
Anyway, with the actors’ strike over, Timmy Chalamet’s Wonka fashion parade has finally arrived in full force. As always, I appreciate his verve for red carpet style even if we don’t always see eye-to-eye on it. To begin with though, (and as someone brought up in the Discord) how mad do you think Kris Jenner was to see Timothée in this floor-length Matrix duster only to find out that it wasn’t a Khy product? I mean, is this man in love with the Lip Kit queen or not??? Bradley would never. As for the barrage of purple attire, as I said up top, I do love a theme. But I also think Timmy relies way too heavily on the same shirtless tactics time and time again. What I do like about the PVC garment in the center is that it looks like a jumpsuit but is actually a completely separate top and bottoms, albeit a top I think could’ve been tailored to his body much better than this. And I like what he was going for with this Tom Ford raspberry number, although I feel like what it’s really missing is a hint of belly button. Forget nipples, who cares. A little red carpet low-rise pant and belly reveal? Now that’s transgressive. Also, if you’re going to borrow an outfit from a brand’s women’s wear collection I just think that you should have to go all the way and wear the matching velvet short-shorts that go with it!!!
On the bright side, this press tour has taught me that, after years of wrist-clutching, Timmy has finally mastered not one, but TWO brand new hand poses to do on the red carpet. And I’m going to need to know immediately who at Cartier reads this newsletter because, as the foremost critic of this man’s jewelry modeling abilities, I have no choice but to attribute Tim’s sudden growth in brand ambassadorship abilities to my endless complaints. In addition to this pensive, yet gracious interwoven fingers look above, he also debuted a pose I like to call the “let him cook” hand swipe which I will have to link out to as for some reason it has been completely scrubbed from the internet save for this singular Daily Mail article. Why is Getty Images trying to hide Timothée’s gold mesh clad nipples from the masses?!
Now, Rihanna remains the only billionaire on this planet willing to meet my absolutely fabulous demands. My simple request in these end days of capitalism is that if I must suffer daily photographs of famous billionaires, they find creative new ways to flaunt their wealth for my entertainment. In this case, wearing a $400,000 diamond watch as an anklet. Absurd, fun, and very on trend what with all the watch chokers we’ve seen out there recently (a trend Rihanna also pioneered, natch). And the fact that Rih wore it while also single-handedly restoring my interest in the Balenciaga pantashoe only makes it all the sweeter. I think it’s the contrast in materials and proportions going on here that manages to make this outfit feel not totally played out. Plus, Rihanna is so good at imbuing high-fashion looks with that feeling of haphazard nonchalance which is something I always wish Kim could figure out how to build back into her rigid dressing formulas. I know I’m a broken record, but if the whole Kardashian family would introduce even just a touch of sloppiness back into their hyper-controlled aesthetics I think it could really do so much for them. So far, Kylie’s the only one who’s started to figure that out.
As I just said in regards to control. Is this not super weird? Kim’s Christmas decorations feel extremely AI generated to me, and not in an interesting way, more like in a TikTok filter kind of way. I get that she’s just perpetuating the aesthetic dictated to her by her monastic Axel Vervoordt home because, again, she’s a type-A rule follower through and through, but not everything has to feel so cold and vacuous and controlled. The beauty to me is always in the juxtaposition and clash of ideas, you can even see that in Vervoordt’s own house and design philosophy. It also just occurred to me that this whole holiday scape, and Kim’s taste more broadly, is very Bryan Johnson in its blankness. There’s this gesture to the immortality of good taste while actually having a total absence of taste altogether and calling it minimalism. Just because everything is sleek geometric shapes done in a taupe palette doesn’t mean its good or even tasteful.
When not showing off her eerie Christmas decor, Kim was busy making some pretty solid size jokes. As I said above, her taste is prescriptive, so of course she thinks that a Birkin — especially a Birkin the size of her torso — is still a chic A-list status symbol. I also remain intrigued by this sudden return of pelts in Hollywood, whether real or fake. I get that there’s still a lot of notions of old movie star glamour tied up in a fur, but I feel like it’s an aesthetic that is becoming increasingly dated. While modeling her new line of Skims on Instagram Stories (left) I also noticed that Kim is either truly Thumbelina sized or her clothing racks are needlessly gigantic or perhaps some combination of the two because why is the halfway point of this rack at her shoulder. Do you think she knows these can be lowered or do you think she just likes how petite it makes her look by comparison?
And, as I’ve pointed out to you infinite times in this newsletter, Kim is a formula dresser. She likes to find one look, one solitary silhouette, that she believes is the current height of chic and then beat her audience over the head with it for months on end. And it appears she now has a new one to add to her repertoire of pantashoes and reconstructed archival Dolce — this Chrome Hearts column dress. This is the third one she has worn in as many weeks, nearly identical to the two leather ones before it she wore to the CFDAs and OBJ’s birthday, down to the all-over cross motif. Please, somebody save us from this fashion purgatory. Plus, this weird waterfall of suede cascading out of her butt crack really just reads as a tail. Although, if I’ve learned one thing covering celebrity outfits over the years, it’s that these people are always trying to sneak some furry cosplay shit onto the red carpet.
I’m 100% exclusively including this photograph because I need to express to someone, anyone, just how embarrassing I find Kris Jenner’s life companion Corey Gamble to be. While I am extremely partial to the CIA conspiracy theory about him, I just feel this man is far too goofy to be trusted with any of our country’s top secret information. Case in point, here he is failing at pulling off pajamas as daywear while trying to make his very Hugh Hefner designs for Dolce & Gabbana happen. But what I actually find most embarrassing about this moment is that I saw a video from this step and repeat where before taking this photo Corey intentionally repositioned his hand on the bag to make sure you can see the clasp and know that it is in fact Hermès. Just unspeakably lame behavior. If you’re going to be a billionaire’s boy toy, at least be fun about it.
This week I’ve also noticed that something truly foul is afoot over at Christian Dior. Even more so than usual! It seem they’ve got their hands on a truckload of satin leopard print and they are working double time to offload it one deeply aughts dress at a time. Despite being oddly dated, both these fashion moments did feel very validating to me in a way because everyone wants to dress like the early 2000s these days until they see what our outfits actually looked like back then. Don’t let the modern, cute reinterpretations fool you because, back in 2010, these two outfits would have been the HEIGHT of clubbing attire. But while I am thrilled to see these relics from my business casual past, I also would never want to inflict this attire on a new generation. Besides, I don’t understand why Dior suddenly wants to put itself in direct competition with every dress already on the TJ Maxx sale rack.
And as I’m slowly winding down the conveyer belt of chaos for today, it’s now my solemn freelancer duty to encourage you all to sign up for a paid subscription to this newsletter by showing you some of the gorgeous ‘fits your missing out on over there, like these remarkable updates on the trompe l’oeil trend of yesteryear. Loewe — seen here on Alexa Chung — continues to have my heart when it comes to the finest sartorial optical illusions and I especially love the way that this neckline almost fades into her actual skin. However, it’s Justin Bieber’s three-armed coffee run sleight of hand that has really sparked my imagination this week. I am obsessed with the surprise reveal of his iced coffee emerging from the center of his torso. It reminds me of that extreme body modification guy who got his twin’s arm surgically attached to his chest (which, in writing this, I just learned was a hoax that I fully fell for in the early days of the Internet). Between this and those Louis Vuitton boots that look like one of Aviva Drescher’s prosthetic legs, I feel like we are slowly drifting into a new era of body horror street style and I’m obviously here for it.
Without that $5/month commitment you’re also missing out on my weekly updates on all of the cutting edge innovations in celebrity nudity. Such as Zoe Lister-Jones looking to antiquity to protect her modesty and covering up just like the Ancient Greeks did with some strategically placed drapery. And needless to say, I’m excited for the whole new world of wardrobe malfunction possibilities this venture into erogenous zone curtains could open up.
Well, that’s all the refuse I’ve got to offer you for today, what do you think? I hope that unlike Kim K’s eyebrows, I haven’t scared you away. Especially since I’ve got so many horrors left to share with you in Sloppy Seconds next week.
See you later, you silly-billies!
Well, time makes you bolder, even children get older, I'm getting older too. So it’s probably about time I wrap up this newsletter already. If you’ve found yourself carried away by the Landslide that is I <3 Mess’s Friday edition, trust me when I say that while I know you’ve been afraid of changin’ because you’ve built your life around Mess, signing up for a paid subscription is going to help you handle the seasons of your life with aplomb. And if you’d like your friends to join you in climbing that mountain and turning around, consider giving them the gift of a free subscription to Mess this yuletide season. Should your gifting budget already be spread too thin, you can always sign up for the ~MESS DISCORD~ at no charge whatsoever where almost 700 members are already asking that mirror in the sky big questions like, “What is love?” and “Can the child within my heart rise above?” And since you’re probably soaking wet from seeing your reflection in those snow-covered hills, why not grab some MESS MERCH to change into.
As always, if you can’t afford to pay for more, just ask me about getting a comped subscription. I promise, it’s no big deal. I do it all the time. And if you send over a screenshot of your donation to any abortion or bail fund, your next month of Mess is on me.
Time for me to slink on out of here!
I also purchased a custom t-shirt of my dog c/o the link you included previously. This shirt, which I am gifting to 8 people (plus myself), might be my best holiday gift ever. GREAT find, Emily! Thank you. (I told the Etsy seller I <3 Mess sent me).
i love the fran shirt! happy bday fran 🥳