Best-dressed Bitches

Rian and I recently finished watching every season of Dynasty.



Several months ago, we got the first season of the outrageous 1980s mega-drama as a joke. We thought we'd share a good laugh over it.

By the second episode, the giggles had ceased and we sat stone-faced in front of the television, hands clenched, hearts racing with anticipation.



It's a really, really good show. Cheesy. Melodramatic. Addictive.

And the fashion. Dear god, the fashion.



The show revolves around oil tycoon Blake Carrington and his beautiful sweet-as-pie second wife, Krystle. They live in a sprawling Denver mansion with his adult children.



The premise to the show is very basic: Blake's ex-wife Alexis, who owns another major oil company, is out to destroy him.



Seriously. That's the entire plot to the show, from the first to last episode. You know, like Tom & Jerry. And just like the cat and mouse cartoon show, it's endlessly entertaining!



Like any good soap operas, there are murders and kidnappings and evil twins and scandalous affairs and cat fights.



But the main reason to watch the show is because of it's jaw-dropping fashion. The style from the show was so iconic, it defined the decade.



And Joan Collins, who plays the ex-wife Alexis, is the star of the show in that respect. Draped in the hottest fashion of the time, the stunningly beautiful scorned woman playfully exchanges witty banter and backstabs everyone around her with poisonous verbal daggers.



Dynasty is basically a giant 1980s fashion show, featuring Joan Collins wearing gigantic sequined gowns, futuristic shoulder-padded power suits, massive wide-brimmed hats, and glamorous Hollywood-drenched fur stoles.



Her costumes were created by the legendary costume designer Nolan Miller, who was provided $35,000 a week to come up the lavish ensembles.



The over-the-top wardrobe complimented the over-the-top character like a skin-tight satin glove.

Of course, Joan Collins was not the only style icon from the show.

Linda Evans, who played Alexis' nemesis, Krystle, portrayed a more sophisticated, and less flashy, style.



Her country club attire consisted of cozy fur coats, sleek gowns, and ritzy, yet casual, jackets.

Heather Locklear, who starred as Krystle's gold-digging niece, had a deliciously tacky wardrobe, which highlighted her cheap, standoffish personality.



Look at that hair!

The fashion from the show was so famous, it inspired a Barbie line and sewing patterns.





As usual, here is my little polyvore tribute. I hope you like it.

So what do you think? Do you like Dynasty fashion?

Shit I taught you in 2012

1. Yes, there is a how-to guide on how to be a hipster.

2. Kate Middleton's cousin likes to take her clothes off.

3. Tom Hank's son is a douchebag.

4. Warren Beatty's son is a daughter.

5. Nail art is really, really old.

6. There are fast food workers who LOVE their jobs.

7. I introduced you to the world's most eligible bachelors.

8. Barbie is a real person.

9. Tom Cruise is an equal opportunity Casanova.

10. I've been using Twitter for 15 years.

11. Paranormal activity is real.

12. I'm an emotional wreck.


Happy New Year!

(Un) Happy Birthday

I'm alive, I swear.

This week has been one of the most emotionally draining and horrific weeks of my life.

I think the lowest point was when I found myself sobbing on my bathroom floor at 3:30 a.m. on my birthday. What a fabulous way to start the next year of my life.

Yeah, my birthday was yesterday.

I don't want to get into all the dirty little details, but let's just say there were certain people who made my life a living hell.

I haven't been getting much sleep either. Like, I think it has been over three months since I've had more than five hours of sleep at night.

Despite being an exhausted sad wreck, there were some highlights.

My friend Andrew and I had a joint birthday party last week. My best friend Jonny flew in from New York City just to attend. I hadn't seen him since this summer!

Here are some photos:

Me & Andrew

Me & Jonny

Me & Rian

My friend Craig

It was a fun time with lots of people. We even had a few party crashers, who we welcomed because they brought expensive booze.

Craig (above) made me the most amazing Morrissey-themed birthday present which I immediately put up in my apartment next to my Marilyn wine bottles:

So, see, my life isn't really that bad. I have wonderful friends.

Anyway, I'm sorry for not being around lately. The stress of the holidays, mixed in with a jaw-dropping amount of work, just took over my life this month.

I hope your December has been awesome!

(my moment of silence)

In the past few days, I've written three blog posts.

One filled with hatred.

One filled with sadness.

One filled with exasperation.

But I scrapped them all.

Innocence was murdered on Friday.

There are no words.

Once Upon a Time: Nargis

I'm sorry, I have been so swamped with work lately. Having time to post has become a rarity, I'm afraid.

In the meantime, please check out my latest guest post for Tanvi. It's about a real-life Bollywood love story.

You can check it out here.

Let me know what you think!

Don't they know it's the end of the world.

Clueless. Girl, Interrupted. Eight Mile.

Her films defined a generation. But when your career hits a snag, the Midas touch of Hollywood turns to ash within the blink of an eye.

With rumors of prescription drug abuse and anorexia, the film offers stopped coming. She clung to whatever independent or low-budget movie she could score, no matter how terrible the script.

She fell in love with a con artist, who flaunted himself as a rich, powerful producer with connections. After they married, the financially struggling actress was paying off her unemployed husband's debt.

In the final two weeks of her life, she was so sick with pneumonia, her lips were blue. She could barely breathe. Yet she was still playing nurse to her ailing mother and husband, who were also sick. Her domineering husband convinced her that they didn't need a doctor.

One afternoon, she was on the floor, unable to breath, her face turning blue. She refused to go to the emergency room. Instead, she told her mother she was going to die. Nobody called 911.

Five hours later, her prediction came true.

After her death, the bitter reality became painfully obvious: If Brittany Murphy had seen a physician at any point before her death, she wouldn't have died. By not seeking medical help, Brittany Murphy had essentially killed herself.

I've always seen myself as one of those 'show people.' My earliest memories are wanting and needing to entertain people, like a gypsy traveler who goes from place to place, city to city, performing for audiences and reaching people.

 

Everybody has difficult years, but a lot of times the difficult years end up being the greatest years of your whole entire life, if you survive them.

God forgot to give me the jealous bone.

I'm a giver. I have learned to be selective of the people in my world, because if I love someone, I will give them my blood, whatever they need. In doing so, one can end up with little left for themselves. It's a lesson in self-preservation that I'm still learning. If you don't have yourself, you have nothing to give.

I don't even take myself seriously, so how could I possibly take Hollywood seriously?

I have always wanted to be really tall for a day. That's kind of a superficial thing. I'm 5'3, but for one day I would love to be 5'9 and tower over everybody.

 I can't believe that people actually know my first and last name. I think it's really, really, gosh-darn neat.



 I think to call my mom and I best friends is almost an insult to our relationship. She's the greatest in the whole wide world, and I don't feel closer to anyone. She's a pillar of strength, and she doesn't flaunt it. She has this will - she just knows she can get through things. It's inspiring.

 

It's easy to get wrapped up in sharing everyday life with a partner. It's fun to get lost in love and romance. It's the best. But holding on to yourself while doing that is the most important thing.

 

I would like to be very, very, very, very old.

Read all about it? Or not.

This might sound strange coming from a news reporter, but I don't like to read the news.

My life is already so stressful, that whenever I hear or read about something horrifically tragic, I get way too emotionally involved. I just can't handle it.

There are too many murders. Too many freak accidents. Too many victims.

Whenever I learn about a horrible incident, I obsess over it. The story doesn't leave my mind, and I wallow in it for the rest of the day.

For example, about one month ago, I happened upon a story about a mentally disabled janitor who was the helpless victim of mistaken identity. His name was Otto.

Police had been notified that a man matching Otto's description had stolen money from an ATM at a convenience store.

Enter poor Otto. Apparently his usual routine had been to always buy a soda and Snickers bar from that store, after work. Unfortunately, he happened to be doing that when someone stole money from the ATM machine. The police arrived at the store, saw Otto, and without any warning, they struck him seven times in eight seconds with a baton and stun-gunned him to the ground.

The officers hogtied Otto, put a rubber mask over his mouth, and sat on him. Otto literally had no idea what was going on, while he was being brutally tortured. When officers taunted him, he breathlessly insisted he hadn't done anything wrong. He eventually lost consciousness.

The police later determined that he had not committed any crime.

He died the next day from his injuries.

Otto's last words had been "All I wanted was a Snickers bar."

A few weeks ago, the main officer at the scene was sentenced to only four years in prison for the wrongful torture and murder of Otto. Figure that one out.

I had the misfortune of reading this article before bed. It haunted me.

I felt sick to my stomach, thinking about poor Otto. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and I turned, my hate for those police officers and my fury at the world in general growing with every hour.

At 3 a.m. that night, Rian was astonished to turn on the light to see me curled up in my rocking chair across the room, sobbing.

"All he wanted was a Snickers bar," I wailed.

Yeah.

So, I stay away from the news.

Fortunately, as a reporter, I cover local government. I'll write a 20-inch article on rezoning ordinances over a brutal murder any day.

I think what freaks me out the most is that it seems like there is more bad news these days than good. Did we always have so many mass shootings? This many domestic violence killings? Police brutality?

Or maybe our ability to access every news story in the world only makes us feel that way. The internet has made the world seem much smaller. And more dangerous.

I'm not sure what's worse: being bombarded with every tragedy in the world or living in blissful ignorance.

...

So, am I the only one relieved that the big news story this week is Kate's pregnancy?