We're delighted to regurgitate the completely phenomenal news that
the snarky ladies behind one of our favorite blogs, the most
triumphant Go Fug Yourself, have just landed book deal worth at least a quarter of the total value of Sienna Miller's capri leggings collection:
Publisher's Marketplace reports the sale of "Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan's The Fug Awards,
fashion critiques of celebrity outfits from the authors of a popular
website, to Jeremie Ruby-Strauss at Simon Spotlight Entertainment, in a
good deal, by Scott Hoffman at Folio Literary Management (NA)."
You may ask, why would anyone want to purchase a gossip book
when we can spend our salaries on weekly tabloids that offer the
trash on a budget (or get it free on the Internerd)? And
didn't blogger book options jump the shark after former SPIN editor
Sarah Lewitinn (aka DJ Ultragrrrl) turned blogger failed to produce a
phenomenon with The Pocket DJ?
Perhaps. That aside, this is huge, friends. We are rooting for this one. We want to see it on bestseller lists. The New York Times. The Post. We want to give The Fug Awards
away as gifts. People need to experience the joys of fugly fasion --
the whole world should know. So suffice it to say, we'd totally fork
over the cash for a coffee table tome about wealthy celebrities with
"an unfortunate dress sense" -- as long as its authored by these
two.
When the Fug website (at less than a year old) was linked by Defamer, it found its way to the bookmarks of countless fashion editors and landed the Fug Girls commentary spots on VH-1's Awesomely Badder Fashion. They
haven't been nicknamed the Joan and Melissa Rivers of the web for
nothing. Except they're younger and hotter, and have even better TV
jobs (Cocks is a senior story producer for America's Next Top Model).
An example, for your pleasure, entitled Califugia,
which we adored to such a degree we have a print out hanging above our
desk at home. Jessica takes down one of the Fuggers' prime victims: the
lovely Mischa Barton. Despite her obvious beauty,
her "acting"/modeling career that place her in the paparazzo
spotlight, and her natural ability to make Keds look cool again, Mischa
makes appalling errors in style and taste on a disturbingly regular
basis. We aren't just referring to her long-term relationship with
Brandon "firecrotch" Davis and unnerving decision to rebound with
gross-to-the-max Cisco Adler. It's the fact that she can look gorgeous
one day. Stunning. The next, she's willing to walk about in public
wearing items that should be regulated to people who just came home
from their high school prom circa 1989, were too tired to fully change
into PJs but also didn't want to totally remove their rumpled finery
from their bodies because they were really excited they got to dress up
for a party and dance with the super tall point guard on Varsity. We're
getting ahead of ourselves:
"Is that what you're doing? Is this a conscious ploy for my
attention? A cry for help? Or is this some kind of sartorial version of
You Got Served? Is this like the part where the kid spins
around on his head, except the spinning has been replaced by purple
velour sweatpants worn -- sweet God, no -- with a RICK-RACK SEQUINED
CARDIGAN?
Do you REALLY want to do this to yourself, Mischa? Do you
really want to hurt me? Do really want to make me cry? Do you want to
make my eyes bleed? What other reason could you possibly have for
dressing like your boyfriend's grandmother, Barbara Davis, from
the waist up? Not to mention the fact that, according to W
magazine, Barbara Davis raises kajillions of dollars for charity each
year and when she sees you in those pants, she may very well think the
you need some of that money to BUY YOURSELF PANTS THAT ARE APPROPRIATE
TO WEAR WITH A CARDIGAN and, oh, will it be embarrassing when she tries
to write you a check at brunch next week."
LOLZZ HAHA OMG. It's almost too much! But not really. If you like that, check out the Fugger's Mischa Barton/O.C. Gang archive. The Ashlee & Jessica Simpson and Lindsay Lohan
posts are utterly priceless. And huge confidence builders! When the
mood strikes, the Fug Girls are known to indulge in short one act
plays, or spoof diary entries. They've recently initiated a running
feature called "Ask Aunt Fugly"
-- it's incredible to witness the kind of creative verbal diarrhea that
bad fashion can inspire in two great writers. It's all splendid,
and we're sure the main cast of characters will get the attention they
deserve in the forthcoming book. However, the real glowing jewel here,
and what we hope to see expanded upon considerably in The Fug Awards, are Britney's Letters of Truth. In light of her shitshow of an outfit for her 2004 Billboard
Awards appearance, the Fuggers unite World History, Ice Capades, and
Mrs. K-Fed in one riotous post. Oh, how the mighty have fallen:
"But let's talk about my outfit because it is so totally
cute. When the salesgirl at the Dress Barn told me that I looked like a
lampshade, I knew I had to have it. Also, when I was getting ready and
Jamie Lynne was helping me and brushing my hair -- and she brushed it
really, really hard, y'all, I almost cried -- and she told me I looked
like a refugee from a Third World road tour of the Ice Capades, I knew
it was the right choice for tonight because Jamie really loves ice
skating. Then she said something about how at least my hair doesn't
look like I brushed it with a Mix Master and I totally don't know what
that means but I am pretty sure it was nice."
Last year, Nina Garcia, the fashion director of Elle magazine, made the mistake of telling one Project Runway
contestant (was it Santino? we can't remember) to "Relax...it's just
fashion." Clearly, Nina, it is not JUST fashion. And unlike the
detractors who claim the Fuggers are setting back feminism or don't
know what the hell they're talking about, we say, shut your face!
Fug On, Fug Girls. NOBODY looks pretty in red bloomers. Not even
you, Duff.
ELSEWHERE:
* Jossip on the Fuggers
* Gawker on the Fuggers
* NPR's Alex Chadwick intervews Jessica Morgan
* Ostrich Ink hearts the Fuggers
* Leggings: Fug or not Fug?
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