OSCAR //Oscar Fug-or-Fab Carpet: Amy Adams

I do so love a redhead in blue; I’m just not sure I love THIS redhead in THIS blue.

Not that there’s anything wrong with the shade. In fact, it’s rather fetching, but for the strange spot near
Amy’s left armpit. (And the hem, too, I see. Did someone attack her with a fiendish eyedropper?) My beef with the dress is how it manages to be both boring and a bit haphazard at the same time — almost as if she woke up one day and barked at her stylist, “I love this shirt. Make it into a cocktail dress, please. The tighter the better.” So the stylist ran out and sewed a skirt onto it, and Amy smiled and wore it to do the cleaning with all her roach friends from Enchanted, then shoved it back into her closet until the BAFTAs rolled around, at which point she grabbed it and said, “I love this dress. Make it floor-length. With a FISHTAIL. SO FRESH.” And voila.
Okay, Adams. You get credit: I figured you would go for a strapless dress, but I was certain it’d either have a fishtail hem, or be a straight up-and-down shift with very little to recommend it. I’m not sure why, exactly. But apparently, based on what she did wear, I can’t trust my gut — which makes sense considering I allowed it to convince me that I needed to eat a bunch of artichoke dip before plowing through several slices of pizza, and that may have been a bad decision.
All of which is to say, my gut told me at first that I really liked this dress, and now I don’t know if I can believe what it’s saying:

I love the detail on the bodice, no question. It’s interesting, it’s flattering, and it gave the dress a cool extra dimension without resorting to haphazardly ornate flourishes or unpleasant fabric tongues. What has given me pause is how the skirt connects back up to the bust — part of me thinks it breaks up the nifty effect that bodice has going, and the rest of me thinks, aw, screw it, she looks pretty, and at least it’s a trend nobody else went for that night. Not to mention that the fabric isn’t white like practically everyone else’s gown (AND Mickey Rourke’s suit). And finally, I am divided on the necklace. At first blush I thought it was a funky and unusual choice, but the more I stare at this photo, the more it seems to fight with the gown — and resemble a commemorative mosaic someone’s mother
made out of a bunch of broken marbles, which her child shattered during its first and
most hilariously memorable tantrum.
Ergo, my gut is conflicted. Usually that ends in a sandwich somehow, but even a sandwich doesn’t help with my immediate problem.