The Good:
It's no secret that I'm gaga for potter Jonathan Adler and his husband, Barneys New York creative director Simon Doonan. Even though I would have never have guessed that Adler is the Big Pony type.
I have no idea what Katharine McPhee has done since American Idol, but she looks great here.
Allure editor-in-chief Linda Wells looks smart in basic black.
Sorry, but I am in love with Olivia Palmero's shoes.
Paula Patton? Pretty!


The Bad:
Andrew Saffir and Valesa Guerrand Hermes definitely have the best names of anyone at the event, but I just can't get behind a woman who lets a man wear a lemon sports coat.
Dear: Carey Lowell: Has Richard done something to convince you that you should wear frumpy old lady clothes?


The Ugly:
Is it just me, or is there something bad wrong with the way the top of Hilary Duff's dress is cut?
Who is Nikki Anders and why is she wearing this? Best not wear a silver trash bag out on the town.
Same goes for Rachel Zoe.

[Images via Getty.]

What stands out in this signature is that you cannot read Linda Wells' first name. The form she uses seems to be a series of poetic sweeps. There is a hook at the end, a sign of tenacity. The writer will hold on tightly to hard-won gains and whatever else is important to her. There is a slash at the top of the first-name form, an indication of impatience, perhaps born in frustration, perhaps annoyance with a slow pace, perhaps with too many duties and details.

This writer communicates directly and does not like to waste time. The roundedness of the forms is a sign of methodical thinking, where the writer steps from one fact to another and another to reach a logical conclusion.

However, the last name, Wells, is clear and readable.

The "e" loop is closed, a sign that the writer filters new ideas through a screen of prejudgments and/or preconceptions.

One "l" of the two l's shows a narrow loop, a sign of some proficiency in abstract thinking (music, mathematics, philosophy).

The small loop visible in the middle of the "W" is a sign that that the writer tends to worry an issue (and gets impatient with herself and others) until the issue is resolved.

• The name "Celebrity Legs Of A Goddess" (Someone was paid to come up with!)
  
• The fact that the Venus "Celebrity Legs Of A Goddess" event was held at NYC's Metropolitan Pavilion, where one can host a wedding reception for $135 to $175 a head.
  
• The fact that $135 to $175 a head is considered a really good deal for a wedding reception in New York.
  
• The fact that we even know that.
  
• The knowledge that if Intern Diana is really really lucky she will, like the "bevy of professional photographers" she found herself amongst, find a job enabling her to continue attending such events after she graduates from Duke.
  
• The bubble guns they hold in this picture, perhaps that they symbolize the infantilization of adults borne by market consumerism. Or just that they annoy us.

It's Rihanna's fucking haircut!
Yeah, it makes her look drag-queeny, but that's missing the point! What we're depressed about is the fact that we know that haircuts are how women's magazine editors make deals, do business and wage war, because, when we wrote all jokes-ey-like about the haircut war between Vogue's Anna Wintour and Allure editor-in-chief Linda Wells, we got all these emails from Conde Nast people saying "Oh my god that's so true! They hate each other!" And so we can only assume that Teen Vogue editor-in-chief Amy Astley (middle) — herself a mere figurehead (hah!) at the Vogue empire and obvious prisoner of Anna Wintour's spHAIR of influence — has been forced as well to subtly (or not!) suggest certain Wintour-like shearing strategies to the celebrities the magazine features. [Not to mention her own hairdresser. -Ed.] Anyway, if it matters any, we liked Rihanna better bang-less, like the first time she met the Teen Vogue blog staff.

The Day I Met Rihanna [Teen Vogue]
Off With Her Head: Anna Wintour Not Exactly A Style Icon To 'Allure''s Linda Wells

What gives? We know that Conde Nast editors have no problem featuring their publishing brethren in the pages of their glossy magazines, so what could account for the exclusion of the woman widely thought to be America's foremost arbiter of style? Does Allure editor Linda Wells simply not like Anna, with whom she worked at Vogue in the early-to-mid 80s? And, more importantly, does the magazine's inclusion of, um, Victoria Beckham mean there's only room for one expressionless English fashion "icon" per issue?

Allure

The magazine is a snooze (or maybe it's that I've just gotten older), with pages upon pages of what is essentially advertorial and the stray, insightful article by some smart writer from another Conde Nast magazine. The February 2007 issue, however, seems to be different. At first. After all, there's cover girl Julianne Moore, who I believe, is both over 40 and with a BMI well over half that number. And I'm liking the clumpy-mascara look on the cover photo, despite Allure's claim that the majority of the makeup used by Gucci Westman on Julianne was made by Revlon, one of Julianne's employers. [For those who don't know this already, women's magazines lie about stuff like this]. I'm also enjoying the fact that two of the magazine's staff contributors — Elizabeth Einstein and Lindsy Van Gelder — admit upfront in their contributors' bios that they don't really care that much about makeup or getting facials. Brava, girls! For the next step in your recovery might we suggest a public admission that you think Ron Perelman is a short little pig?

Things, unfortunately, go downhill from here. In her editor's letter, Linda Wells recounts what she undoubtedly feels is an illuminating story about a friend, Jane, who turned up at a party wearing black velvet shorts with tights, platform shoes and a flowy white top. The lesson to be learned? Well, Linda's point is that when you wear an outfit with confidence, it will undoubtedly look "right". Fascinating stuff, that is.

Onward and downward. I'm intrigued by the Sarah Van Boven feature on women with serious hair loss, mostly because of a not-so-blind item in an essay in this book by a former Allure editor (and, full disclosure, a former boss of mine) that seems to imply that Linda Wells herself suffers from such an ailment (and may even wear a hairpiece). Why this has never made the gossips, only Richard Johnson knows.

Page 120: Allure reports that two professors at USC have concluded that celebrities have a tendency towards narcissistic traits that lead them towards the limelight, "rather than vice versa." Pages 121-181: A spa directory package (yawn); a feature on shimmery eye-makeup (written by poor Elizabeth Einstein, who, as you'll remember, admits up front that she couldn't care less about cosmetics); a feature on hair accessories with NO PRICES ATTACHED; a story on happiness by Rebecca Mead (you're slumming it, girlfriend); and a fashion feature on spring-y, flirty frocks with again, NO PRICES.

Last up, the story I've been waiting for: the Julianne Moore profile by Kevin Sessums. Kevin, who used to write puff pieces for Vanity Fair, seems to have acquired an edge in the ensuing years, as he all but calls Julianne old within the first paragraph:

"There is something about [NYC's Broadway district] on such a morning that can remind you of a woman past her prime but still beautiful. At least that's the image that comes to mind before I open the stage door of the Music Box Theatre, and a fresh-faced Julianne Moore comes bounding down the stairs to greet me."

But Sessums makes up for his diss - and recalls the good 'ol Vanity Fair days - in the very next paragraph with agonizing pronouncements like these:

"...her mass of unbrushed curls, the color of a rusty sunset."
"...as if captured in one of those luminous closeups for which she has become known."
"She is the kind of actress whose otherworldly beauty onscreen, glazed both by life and lighting, can't quite mask her earthiness."

Will someone put Kevin Sessums out if his misery already?

Overall Grade: D-