I tell you what SUCKS, Rita Ora.
Being stuck in a strip-lighted office cruising pictures of fashionable famous people posing in the bright Californian sunshine. Hope you're having a great time! Anyway, moving on: why, helloooo there, neon colour-clash cute-but-cool Coachella look. The pairing of Jeremy Scott slogan tee, JW Anderson midi skirt and Carerra by Safilo shades, finished off with electric blue mani is somajorlyhotrightnow. I love that she didn't feel the urge to go all horny-hippy "festival-chic" *cough* Hilton sisters *cough* or just walk around in literally a bikini *ahem* Rumer Willis *ahem* and I adore that she accessorised with a chunky gold Rolex and Superga hi-tops.
Oi, tudo bem? I am Alessandra Ambrosio, I'm a Brazillian Victoria's Secret model and I have an incredible body that I show to you now. Look at my incredible body glowing like the sunshine of this wonderful Coachella festival. I am wearing a tie-dyed crop top (so 90s, right meninas?) and salmon-pink cut-offs no bigger than a little panty because: huh! I can. I am showing you my lithe, long olivey-coloured legs in a thong sandal, and wearing slightly intimidating mirrored shades straight out of an 80s cyborg movie because: huh! I can. I have got very long hair. Touch it, it feels like silk. I drink 87 kinds of vegetable juice for breakfast and then I go aerobics. Tchau!
The thing with Alexa Chung is I look at her and think, yeah: floral button-down shirt tucked into denim shorts, Converse, whopping cats-eye sunglasses, grown out choppy bob hair "with a bit of movement in it" – yeah, I can do that. I can throw that on and hang out in front of a bush and look pulled together and chic in comparison to all the yobbos in baseball caps sitting behind me. But d'you know what? I can't. Because I am not Alexa Chung. And because Alexa Chung has patented the concepts of "effortless", "making sure I don't look as though I carefully chose this outfit with my stylist" and "disregarding the fact that a long-sleeved shirt might be a bit warm for this particular occasion".
OK, let's be kind and say that maybe this uninspired day-one look was KP saving herself for the series of so-fashion, print-clash, body-con, Dynasty-esque outfits she banged out on subsequent days of the festival (also, the statement-earring and mermaid-hair combo? Loved those). The hat seems to sit strangely, the dress looks too short for her, the unwieldy cross pendant doesn't really work with the ditsy florals, and the fishtail plait looks badly done rather than messily editorial. It all just looks strangely teenage, like she's gone shopping at the Reading Octagon centre with the rest of year 10 on a summer's day.
Diane Kruger & Joshua Jackson
I know in my rational mind that pictured here is one of the rare 'Chella moments when Diane Kruger and Pacey weren't eating each others' faces off and showing their love to the world and that this dress-down H&M hotpant ensemble is fine and nice and whatever, and I should probably mention Pacey looks a bit hmm, but all I can see here is BOOTS. Puss in Boots, to be precise. Principal boy of a panto meets Pocahontas imagined by Robert Louis Stevenson. Over-knee, strangely flappy, somewhat tasselled, big old black suede BOOTS in the middle of a desert and in 35-degree heat. Diane, this is too much BOOTS for me. Or as you would say, enough with DER STIEFEL.
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