Dateline Washington DC: Inauguration Fashion!

(This is Mademoiselle’s assistant, writing up her notes from the Inauguration. I hope she gets good and looped at the post-Inaugural luncheon, she’s been impossible.)

It is absolutely frigid out here, even my silk knit lingerie does not help. I am bundled up top to toe. Thank goodness Bucky is back at the Willard Hotel; the little darling does not do well in these temperatures. The estimates of the crowd range from 1 million to 16 million, but all I know is that my toes are frozen.

Hillary Clinton is wearing a cobalt blue coat that would be perfectly acceptable except for that strange ruffle across the back. Laura Bush is wearing a suitably toned down gray ensemble; considering how loudly her husband had been booed on his entrance, it wouldn’t do to dress to be noticed.

Dick Cheney is being wheeled out in a chair…how did I ever bring myself to sleep with him back in the day?

Ah, Jill Biden is wearing a wonderful lipstick red coat with an assymetrical collar. It is a bit hard to tell, but I think she has on black gloves with large black bumps on them that resemble nothing so much as Elephant Man disease. Her husband, the Vice-President elect, has on more makeup than she does, it seems from here.

Michelle Obama is wearing a marvelous sheath with a matching coat over it, in gold with white embroidery by Isabel Toledo. She has accessorized it with green gloves and matching green pumps. This is definitely a First Lady with a style mind of her own. I don’t care for the jeweled collar, but otherwise, this is an instant classic. (Pardon my fawning, but this is the new administration and your faithful correspondent knows which side her bread is buttered on.)

They are beginning the ceremony–whose hair is stiffer, Dianne Feinstein’s or Joe Biden’s? Neither one’s is moving in the icy wind.

What does Aretha Franklin have on her head? Oh, dear, she is not in good voice this cold morning. Somebody just called out “Sing good!” Poor Aretha cannot oblige. She must have a cold. All the moaning and melismas in the world can’t cover up the fact that the woman is having a hard time hitting the notes.


Ha. Cheney thought he could hide it under his wheelchair. Oh, that is such a relief…to be continued!

Elisa sans Bucky the Wonderdog

The Carpet Runs Red At The Oscars…


It’s Oscar night, and no Vanity Fair party! Not only that, your faithful correspondent is simply wrung out from the stress of working on my soon-to-be-opening extravaganza, “Diary of A Mad Fashionista,” which opens this Wednesday.

No matter. It is my duty to report on the good, bad and the ugly on the red carpet, and then to bed. Perhaps not the exhaustive reportage my readers have come to expect from yours truly, but the mere fact that I am dictating this is a feat in itself. The blog comes first!

First, I have to say, that beautiful Jennifer Hudson should have let my dear friend Andre Leon Talley dress her this year. And for me to say THAT is significant. She is in an dazzlingly unflattering Grecian white dress with an Empire waist (why do busty women think they will look better in Empire waists?), and a shapeless bust. I do hope that dear Jennifer is not channeling Aretha Franklin nowadays!

Second, on the other end of the weight scale, Calista Flockhart was also in a Grecian draped dress (did Rami from “Project Runway” dress the invitees?) in a sickly shade of blue green, the better to look truly anorexic. Her better two-thirds, Harrison Ford, has taken to wearing a gray page boy, perhaps in homage to the Best Supporting Actor, Javier Bardem.

Another trend on the red carpet was “bed-head.” Cameron Diaz wore a scruffy ponytail (it matched the wrinkles in her gown), and Colin Farrell’s hair hung down in an uncombed mess.

Helen Mirren looked…very good. This appearance was a tad disappointing from an actress who always looks spectacular.

(Personally, I think it was the lace sleeves on her red gown. It looked like she’d thrown on an old English cardigan, even if they are crystals.)

Meanwhile, Kristin Chenoweth must have had not time to shop and ran straight to the nearest Frederick’s of Hollywood.

More later…I simply must hie me to bed.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog