Hi!
Have you ever wanted to practice your disassociation skills? Have you considered visiting the dentist??
I went this week for a routine cleaning because I’m trying to be a good girl and I also live in constant fear that all of my teeth are rotting out of my head. Once there, I was given the luxury of an hour to myself to pretend like I was anyone anywhere else other than in a chair with Planet Earth playing five feet above my head while fingers poke around inside my mouth and a small metal pick digs just below my gum line, all set to the hair-raising soundtrack of some tool scraping plaque off my enamel. What’s really strange to me though is that I don’t know how this extreme aversion to the dentist came to be as I never had it as a child. It is fully my adult brain’s own concoction. In order to nip this in the bud before it becomes a full-blown phobia, I’ve just been trying to treat my appointments like exposure therapy in the hopes that one day I won’t associate them exclusively with having full-body chills while my gums are being brutalized. So far no luck.
But even stranger than me just suddenly deciding to surmount my fears and be vaguely accountable for my own wellbeing, is that I also got my hair cut this week and have yet to take a single selfie of it. Why you ask? Well, because they also straightened my hair to within an inch of its life and I’ve never looked like such a freak. No offense to straight-haired people. YOU look perfect and beautiful. I, however, look like a normie loser whose entire wardrobe came straight out of Talbots. I am genuinely shocked by what a difference this has made and by the shape of my head under these pin-straight locks. It feels like I’ve permanently glued a wig made of someone else’s hair to my scalp — slick and creepy.
And what’s even crazier is that I just keep looking in the mirror and thinking this is exactly the hair I would have killed for as a pre-teen. My whole life I’ve had naturally coarse, extremely thick, wavy hair and all I grew up watching was girls like Britney Spears with their curtains of silky, baby fine locks that could be totally contained by a single butterfly clip. I always dreamed of getting the Princess Diaries treatment and somehow going from a shapeless mop to a perfectly sleek coif without ever realizing the literal hours of blowouts every single day that it would have required to achieve that. It’s always funny to think back on the person you were versus who you are now, but especially through the lens of those aughts fashion and beauty standards that had my generation in a chokehold but were actually just making all of us look extremely unhinged.
As for Sloppy Seconds, this week we covered the Beckhams many bad tattoos, what your Uggs say about you, and medical supplies as thee THOT accessory du jour. If any of that sounds good to you, please make sure to sign up for a paid subscription and then dive on in to the backlog. And next week’s Seconds will be a little shorter just because there weren’t as many leftovers, so in addition to your usual celebrity content I will also be supplementing with three products I’ve recently purchased that have completely changed my life, including one that has corrected my trajectory towards becoming a laptop-induced hunchback. So please consider supporting your local gossip monger!
Ok I’m ready for the worst.
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First of all, I just want to let you all know that my TikTok attempts continue in great sincerity. It is not my natural medium nor my strongest works, nevertheless she persisted. Here’s one that, if you imagine that Drake is actually this blonde woman, I find to be very powerful. Looking forward to your feedback as always.
Now, look how they massacred my boy. My beautiful boy. Ravaged by a flood light, not enough rouge, and the sands of time. Brad looks like a computer composite of Chelsea Handler and Ray Liotta’s faces. Also, does GQ have some sort of lifetime contract with Brad where they are legally obligated to profile him every year for no reason because it just feels like they’re constantly doing a photo shoot with him where he has nothing to promote but his dreams. Dreams that, as I told Sloppy Seconds readers this week, probably would be best saved for his therapist instead of a national publication. Anyway, I do think this cover was a success in that Brad looks incredibly old for maybe the first time ever, thus forcing the viewer to confront their own mortality. A rare play for a cover that promotes existential dread — brava.
As I foresaw last week, our Marilyn fixation is only just gearing up. And I also maintain my original stance: LEAVE HER ALONE! There’s something so morbid about this fixation. Same goes for Princess Diana. And how did Grace Kelly manage to escape this whole situation unscathed?
But I am thrilled to see that not only is Sydney finally getting out of the granny looks and in to the high fashion treatment she deserves, but there’s also not a single chest-forward shot in this whole spread. Give my more cool girl Syd editorials instead of weird horny male fantasy shoots!!!
This is an EMERGENCY. I’m praying this was just a dress rehearsal walk though for the Barbie movie because these lips are looking mighty unvarnished and I want shellacked to the heavens, high-gloss paint masquerading as makeup when I watch this film. I am a little concerned Greta is going for a level of naturalism that I do not believe should exist in the world of Mattel, but only time will tell.
Does Drake even realize he’s always tattling on himself like this? I find it both deeply depressing and the type of light public humiliation that is precisely what the doctor ordered for him. While the whole video for “Falling Back” struck me as a pretty immature, longwinded fantasy, Drake’s decision to yet again collaborate with the lowest quality man tells me everything I need to know about his character. I was also suddenly struck by the realization that we just recently saw another music video wedding from his ex Rihanna. And phew, that juxtaposition….I just need Drake to get a therapist on speed dial sooner rather than later. To put it in terms, he might understand, it’s time to go “Tony Soprano mode.” By which I obviously mean have a panic attack every time he eats gabagool and raise some ducks in his swimming pool.
Posting is an illness. I can confidently say this because I suffer from the affliction myself. The more you post, the more you get those sweet little hits of serotonin, the more you must post again in order to sustain the high. But as this feedback loop cycles on, you begin to lose the ability to differentiate between things people do and do not actually need to know about you and the cringe meter is often the first thing to get thrown out the window. Which brings us to this. This feels like something private between Kravis the public absolutely never needed to see. I need everyone to scale it all the way back. We’re getting way too digitally cozy with one another.
Likewise, I think we can officially stop speaking to famous people altogether now. It’s time. They’re not acting right. I don’t need stories like this. Call me once something actually interesting has happened to you and I’ll maybe consider writing it up. Until then, no one needs to suffer through another one of these banal TMI anecdotes masquerading as relatable content.
I’ve had it with Kim in general, y’all. I mean, clearly. How long are we going to keep being subjected to this legging and sweats combo in every color of the rainbow and told that it’s fashion. This series of looks also just reminded me that this is the very same rut she fell into during the Yeezy era with those giant sweatsuits mixed and matched with latex tops and leggings. The difference is that back then she had Kanye to periodically pull her out of it with some high fashion home run moments. But today, we have no vision holder for her fashion supremacy so she sticks to her comfort zone while continuing to barrage us with the exact same look as though everything is just business as usual. I look forward to seeing what happens as this Balenciaga cycle comes to a close because I have a feeling it’s not going to be pretty and, of course, as the MC of Mess, I’ll be there ready and waiting.
And to add insult to injury, just as I was lamenting her new Doug-like daily uniform on Twitter, she trotted out this Fourth of July iteration. Americana? In this economy? I simply don’t have the energy for this dullness anymore. Although, I would like you all to go take a look at whatever foot-binding situation is taking place underneath these stirrups and let me know your thoughts on if we’re headed down the road towards some dystopic lotus feet future.
I never thought I’d say this, but I genuinely miss the days when Kim dressed exactly like Lottie Moss. Those who follow me on Twitter could probably already intuit that I’ve been feeling nostalgic since I’ve been posting random old Kim outfits all week and reminiscing about those days when her ensembles possessed a chaotic eroticism that made them feel like a swift kick to the senses instead of a chore.
And before we leave the Kim sagas behind us, I just have to highlight these two bobs bobbin’. Specifically, the way whoever is managing Kim’s wig collection these days plucked an inch-wide part down the center of her head. Would love if Kim could address why she’s suddenly started wearing the Red Sea on her scalp.
Anyway, Kim’s not the only one on the struggle bus right now. Kylie also stepped out this week in an incredibly ugly t-shirt that also happens to prominently feature the racist caricature of Chief Wahoo. A logo that has been completely phased out since 2019 because it is in such poor taste…Like how does this happen. This feels like something that could’ve and should’ve been stopped at so many junctures before it reached my eyeballs. To say this is just KarJenners rage-baiting is overly simplistic, in my opinion. For starters, they aren’t usually this sloppy with it, and the Tupac lawsuit debacle seemed to genuinely shake this younger generation of Jenner out of that mindset. This feels like sabotage coming from inside the house. Jordyn’s revenge perhaps. To make matters worse she was wearing this all while boarding her private jet to make the 30 minute flight from LA to Palm Springs….the rich are only getting more appetizing by the day.
I love that Kris looks indistinguishable from half the boys lining the streets of SoHo right now hoping someone will stop them to take their picture outside the Aimé Leon Dore store. You know they’ve got to be absolutely sick right now that a 66-year-old grandma is flexing harder than they ever will.
Again, full Fox brainwashing at work here, but I’m actually digging the corporate stripper attire. This is the mullet of fashion, party and business from every angle all at once. She’s also giving us all the body-baring trends one outfit can handle and still be considered an outfit. There’s the bumster segueing into some wide-leg chaps, with the slight hip cutouts and g-string reveal that have become her signature, finished off with just the whisper of a triangle nipple panel. Again, at least Juila is putting in the work unlike many of her contemporaries. If she pops up next on Rupert Murdoch’s arm I wouldn’t even bat an eye. Fox news, but for real this time.
And, as I’ve mentioned before, Julia’s relying hard on that bottle of bleach, but this pic with Amelia Gray plus Sydney’s Vogue cover has got me thinking we’re cruising full speed ahead into a brow-free summer. But also, I just have to say, shame on both these girls for fraternizing with a predator for clout. Why put the fledgling standom they’re both working SO hard to build in jeopardy.
But there is nothing in this world — no photo shoot, no scandalous revelation, no inane pull quote, no number of lunches with Alex Wang — that could ever make me interested in Nicola Peltz. I just don’t have it in me.
Tessa, on the other hand, I’ve been saying — even long before the balcony threesome photos — has all the raw qualities of a Chloë Sevigny-caliber It-girl. The accordion bustle dress was enough of a visual treat for the week and then she hit us with the trompe l’oeil trousers. Between this and all the faux-nude silhouettes we’ve been seeing on dresses lately, there’s no denying trompe l’oeil is having a big moment in fashion. And I know fashion is supposed to be a reflection of us as a society, but I’m trying not to read too much into the fact that the big look of the moment is all about false promises, deception, and illusions. Although, as one of my Twitter followers put it, it’s also about TRADITION.
I also just wanted to show you all how Bella has fully hit her 90s supermodel stride this week in the street style department. I don’t even have anything snarky to say, she has just genuinely figured out the perfect balance of vintage and timeless. This is how Hailey Bieber and Kendall think they’re dressing.
But most importantly, I need to share with you that I only recently discovered my queen Jocelyn Wildenstein is on Instagram and using it PRECISELY as god intended. Her whole feed is just full uncanny Bitmoji valley and I’m living for it. She’s not even pretending to have a non-illustrated face. And her lack of concern for altering any other aspect of her body? Inspired! When will the art world finally recognize the great visionaries of this medium??
And for everything I put you through week after week, here’s a little slice of heaven in the form of a new Ben Affleck paparazzi pic.
Now I’m off to raid the pantry like Rod Stewart…
…And (probably pretend to) eat some spaghetti poolside.
Until next time: rock on, brother!
Felicitations on breaking on through to the other side of this newsletter. While this has truly been a meandering path along the highway to hell, I’ve come to learn over the last three years that some of you really like it hot. So if that’s you, and you can rattle off five additional people in your life who also like their celebrity gossip a little piquant, please sign them up for a subscription today. And if you feel like being as gracious a host as Hot Ones’s Sean Evans, then why not go ahead and send those Scoville levels through the roof by gifting all your strong-palated pals a paid sub and then buying them an assortment of MESS MERCH today.
This weekly roundup of the hottest looks and even hotter opinions has set your inbox ablaze this Friday all thanks to your inextinguishable desire for the most flawed attire money can buy. But the true stars of this traveling circus are the OG Mess Masters who tirelessly take on the full brunt of this blaze. For just $5 a month, this expertly-trained platoon of firefighters go head to head with the most flammable looks in Hollywood. So, if you’re ready to join the patrol and face down these conflagrations, please become a paid subscriber today. Or, if you can’t afford the $5, ask me about getting a comped sub or leave a little tip on my Venmo at your leisure. And don’t forget that if you send over a screenshot of your donation to an abortion fund or any gun violence prevention group, your next month of Mess is on me.
Later you Queens of Chaos!
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