Fug The Cover: InStyle and Eva Longoria do not worry
Admittedly, I haven’t bought or read InStyle in a long time, because it’s a little too rich for my blood — I don’t walk by Banana Republic and think to myself, “Aw, how sweet, a bargain-basement store” — but this past weekend I snapped up the March 2008 issue with Eva Longoria on the front, because it was wickedly hideous and I had to have it.
Inside she says, “It makes me feel old, but I love it,” and she’s referring to being called “Mrs. Parker” when they’re in Texas, but it might also refer to the cover photo.
Seriously, that doesn’t even really look like her face to me. It’s so… sharp. In my mind’s eye, that’s actually a Miami Beach socialite in her late thirties who just got fresh cheek implants, and is about to start a gig on a cruise ship opening for Kathie Lee Gifford at the Lido Deck Lounge.
Even InStyle clearly felt so concerned that you wouldn’t recognize the pursed lips and cocked brows that the designers chucked any reference to the story inside (a peek inside her closet, which offers almost nothing interesting or surprising except MAYBE that she owns an entire wall full of black shoes and a minimum of $7000 in Louboutins), in favor of slapping her name over the picture in the biggest font size possible, as if to be like, “No, SERIOUSLY, it’s HER. WE’D GET SUED FOR THIS IF IT WEREN’T, SO IT HAS TO BE.” Although frankly, if I were her, I might sue them for it anyway.
Inside she says, “It makes me feel old, but I love it,” and she’s referring to being called “Mrs. Parker” when they’re in Texas, but it might also refer to the cover photo.
Seriously, that doesn’t even really look like her face to me. It’s so… sharp. In my mind’s eye, that’s actually a Miami Beach socialite in her late thirties who just got fresh cheek implants, and is about to start a gig on a cruise ship opening for Kathie Lee Gifford at the Lido Deck Lounge. Even InStyle clearly felt so concerned that you wouldn’t recognize the pursed lips and cocked brows that the designers chucked any reference to the story inside (a peek inside her closet, which offers almost nothing interesting or surprising except MAYBE that she owns an entire wall full of black shoes and a minimum of $7000 in Louboutins), in favor of slapping her name over the picture in the biggest font size possible, as if to be like, “No, SERIOUSLY, it’s HER. WE’D GET SUED FOR THIS IF IT WEREN’T, SO IT HAS TO BE.” Although frankly, if I were her, I might sue them for it anyway.
