Emmys: a Red Carpet Rehash

So, the Emmys happened! I don’t care who won. I came for the dresses.

The good, the bad, and the ugly!


Best look of the night, if you ask me. This is how you rock loose, floaty layers that are slightly out of proportion:

I loved this. LOVED it.

I don’t like the satin lapels, but the rest of the tailoring is spot-on. Thumbs up on the pant legs, John!

Dame Sigourney Weaver, being awesomer than everyone.

This is almost too sweet, but it’s Drew Barrymore. Sure, she can’t act, but she’s so genuinely nice that this halo isn’t even a trick of the light; the sun shines a little brighter, just for her.

This would be amazing if it wasn’t for the mantilla out the back.

The year: 1922. This dress: awesome then, awesome now.

This is so simple that it would be plain, except that the texture is really rich without looking like upholstery. Thumbs up.

She’s stunning. He looks like a cartoon pilot.

A little too much cleavage, but it’s nice to see short sleeves that look glamorous.

Nude without looking naked, sparkles without looking like a pageant contestant, tulle without looking bridal. (And my one bodysnark of the night: she’s looking really, really thin. I don’t like it.)

I even liked this dress, though I don’t like the actress wearing it. It’s a nice use of layers to add interest without being too floaty:

It works, even though it sort of looks like a topographical map or a medical problem.


An enormous parasite makes its move on Padma.

This dress is bleeding internally! MEDIC!

This dress reproduces by budding.

Those sutures are infected! MEDIC!

THE BAD. You guys, you were all SO CLOSE.

Love the idea! Too bad it looks like you’re trailing toilet paper.

It’s her style, I guess, if we’re back in 1993. And the color is unusual without quite being dowdy. But man, the staggered band of color around the hem that looks like an accident, the eyelash fabric stapled to the top – honey, you can do better.


This is so close, except I’m not a fan of the one-shoulder, usually, but even then this might have worked except that I just feel like the puff is too much. If that had been a tight sleeve, I would have loved it. And the makeup and hair are awesome. Thumbs up.

This is how you DON’T rock floaty, too-big layers:

I love the color, love the idea. Just…didn’t quite get there.

Blair Waldorf should know that shoulder pads are SO 2008 Fall/Winter collections.

This would have worked without the necklace. (Don’t compete with a fancy neckline!) Also, one shade darker. Just one! The sunlight bounces off it and washes it out! You must know that, actresses! Think, damn you, think!


The human lampshade.

I don’t know why no one hemmed this. She looks like one of those huge inflatable Slinky-men they put outside the car dealers so they wave demonically in the wind.

No comment.

This is the face of a car salesman. You’ll never tell me any different.

Where are those arrows even pointing?

The deeply unfunny Sarah Silverman in a deeply ugly dress.


Recent Work

TV Recaps: Elementary, Season 5

TV Recaps: Victoria, Season 1

TV Recaps: Reign, Season 4

TV Recap: Bates Motel, "Hidden"

Fiction: "Everyone from Themis Sends Letters Home", Clarkesworld

Film: How many movies about grief this year? All of them, Legacy.com

Book Review: HIGH NOON: The Hollywood Blacklist and the Making of an American Classic, NPR.org

Book Review: How to Read a Dress, NPR.org

Nonfiction: A Doom of One's Own, Clarkesworld

Genevieve on Tumblr

  • Whether you will, or no

    I wrote a piece for VICE about consent as fantasy element in the 18th-century “Beauty and the Beast,” and a little about what happens to the shape of the tale when a retelling (say, I dunno, Disney) alters those elements: “How Disney’s ‘Beauty and the Beast’ Became the Darkest Tale of All.“

    An excerpt:

    The most powerful force in Beauty and the Beast isn’t magic, or even love, but consent. Most retellings of Villeneuve’s version are careful to keep it. The Beast is clear that Beauty must know what she’s getting into. (In Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch’s 1910 version, it’s still more explicit: The Beast warns Beauty’s father to “be honest with your daughter. Describe me to her just as I am. Let her be free to choose whether she will come or no…”) Later, the Beast asks Beauty herself if she comes willingly. And that first dinner is marked by the Beast’s deference to her wishes. Beauty’s earliest surprise is how much power she wields. Even in his nightly request that Beauty marry him, he defers. Andrew Lang emphasized the power dynamics in 1889’s Blue Fairy Book:

    “Oh! What shall I say?” cried Beauty, for she was afraid to make the Beast angry by refusing.
    “Say 'yes’ or 'no’ without fear,” he replied.
    “Oh! No, Beast,” said Beauty hastily
    “Since you will not, good-night, Beauty,” he said.
    And she answered, “Good-night, Beast,” very glad to find that her refusal had not provoked him.

    Lang was one of many who used marriage proposals for the nightly request (Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont’s 1756 retelling was the first), but Villeneuve was under no illusions about the story’s undertones. In her original, Beast asks Beauty to sleep with him. Beauty’s power is the ability to withhold sexual consent.

    [Full article]


2016 Appearances

Emerald City Comicon
April 7-10, 2016
Seattle, WA

Kent State Wonder Woman Symposium
September 23-24, 2016
Cleveland, OH

New York Comic Con
October 5-9, 2016
New York City

World Fantasy Convention
October 28-30
Columbus, OH