The most gracious gift a bride can give

What do the following body characteristics have in common?

- broad shoulders
- 32AA chest
- 38EE chest
- untoned upper arms
- back acne
- tan lines
- armpit fat
- short neck
- undefined clavicle
- uneven breast size

Not sure?

Well, let me interject, as there are actually two critical points I'd like to make here.

The first is that the vast majority of women's bodies, be they attached to a 22 or 42 year-old, fall into one or more of the above categories.

The second is that any one of these has the high potential for causing "oh dear" disaster when it comes to a strapless neckline.

Which now brings us to that lovable group of white-wearing women and their penchant for opting not just for themselves but also for their 1-10 closest friends the very difficult to wear neckline known as straight-edged strapless.

Now, I'm well aware of this new-fangled idea that brides aren't just allowed but expected to be total taskmasters and that it's considered more adorable than objectionable for them to be six steps above the highest of high maintenance, but there's a world of difference between being a bride who requires her grad student girlfriend with no disposable income to go into credit card debt so she can attend -and bring offerings to- the engagement party, bridal shower, bachelorette party and wedding reception and being a woman who forces her of-varying-size friends to all wear the same style of bridesmaid dress.


Unless the 1-10 closest friends who are to flank this bride have identical figures (as was the case in my brother's wedding, so I do acknowledge that exceptions exist), thrusting the same dress upon each of them is, in my opinion, asking most of them and maybe all of them to commit a major figure-flattering offense.

And not just on that one day but forever in those wedding albums of theirs.

Now whether we're talking about strapless, halter, t-shirt sleeved, low-back, tea-length or any other kind of specialty cut, I think we can all agree none are universally flattering. What will look best on a petite woman with a large chest and skinny legs is bound to look awkward on a taller, broader girl with muscular calves.

I know I'm hardly the first person to recognize the injustice of forcibly wedging both a size-0 and a size-12 into the same empire-waisted strapless goddess gown, but considering that I'm still to this day shown windfalls of photos where all 1-10 women are wearing the same dress, I have to wonder why the modern bride hasn't become more...well, modern?

My advice, if you're not willing to be as hands-off a bride as Charlotte in her second walk down the aisle (Carrie, Miranda and Samantha each wore whatever they wanted), is to choose the color, outline the parameters (e.g., knee-length, matte fabric, no cleavage, etc.) but grant your bridesmaids the freedom to find the specific style that most flatters their figure. If one doesn't know how to make that determination, have your most attuned-to-proper-fit bridesmaid accompany her. Make clear to them you'll have the final say, perhaps even require an in-person fitting or a high-res photograph before the tags are cut, but at least in the beginning, give them the retail reins.

So there you have it, what I consider a bride's most gracious gift -- the gift of her friends' confidence intact.

If you're wondering how a topic like this landed on my usually anti-wedding radar, well, you've gotta do something while you're waiting in line for 40 minutes to buy a small container of guacamole and half-full bag of organic blue-corn chips at Whole Foods.

Why not eavesdrop?

(two women, mid-20s)

"Have you tried yours on yet?"

"Yeah, have you?"

"Yeah..."

(apprehensive) "What did you think?"

"What do you think I thought?"

"I have no idea why she chose that dress. It's so awful."

"It's beyond awful, it's ridiculous. It's a f**king ridiculous dress."

"It's one day, and then we can..."

"But the point is, for me to feel comfortable in that thing, I'm gonna have to lose like, five pounds. At least."

"Come on, it can't be that bad."

"When was the last time you remember seeing me wear a sleeveless anything? Anything? When??"

"Come on, it'll be..."

"The answer is 'never,' because I know my body and my body wasn't meant for something tight and strapless. Why, why would she do this to us? We're her best friends. I just don't get it."

"Because she's the bride and that's what brides do."

After this last sentence, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do more - run and kiss BridalBird for her decision to have only one, sisterly bridesmaid or to ask these two ladies for their friend's contact information so that she and I could have a serious sit-down.

The most gracious gift a bride can give

What do the following body characteristics have in common?

- broad shoulders
- 32AA chest
- 38EE chest
- untoned upper arms
- back acne
- tan lines
- armpit fat
- short neck
- undefined clavicle
- uneven breast size

Not sure?

Well, let me interject, as there are actually two critical points I'd like to make here.

The first is that the vast majority of women's bodies, be they attached to a 22 or 42 year-old, fall into one or more of the above categories.

The second is that any one of these has the high potential for causing "oh dear" disaster when it comes to a strapless neckline.

Which now brings us to that lovable group of white-wearing women and their penchant for opting not just for themselves but also for their 1-10 closest friends the very difficult to wear neckline known as straight-edged strapless.

Now, I'm well aware of this new-fangled idea that brides aren't just allowed but expected to be total taskmasters and that it's considered more adorable than objectionable for them to be six steps above the highest of high maintenance, but there's a world of difference between being a bride who requires her grad student girlfriend with no disposable income to go into credit card debt so she can attend -and bring offerings to- the engagement party, bridal shower, bachelorette party and wedding reception and being a woman who forces her of-varying-size friends to all wear the same style of bridesmaid dress.


Unless the 1-10 closest friends who are to flank this bride have identical figures (as was the case in my brother's wedding, so I do acknowledge that exceptions exist), thrusting the same dress upon each of them is, in my opinion, asking most of them and maybe all of them to commit a major figure-flattering offense.

And not just on that one day but forever in those wedding albums of theirs.

Now whether we're talking about strapless, halter, t-shirt sleeved, low-back, tea-length or any other kind of specialty cut, I think we can all agree none are universally flattering. What will look best on a petite woman with a large chest and skinny legs is bound to look awkward on a taller, broader girl with muscular calves.

I know I'm hardly the first person to recognize the injustice of forcibly wedging both a size-0 and a size-12 into the same empire-waisted strapless goddess gown, but considering that I'm still to this day shown windfalls of photos where all 1-10 women are wearing the same dress, I have to wonder why the modern bride hasn't become more...well, modern?

My advice, if you're not willing to be as hands-off a bride as Charlotte in her second walk down the aisle (Carrie, Miranda and Samantha each wore whatever they wanted), is to choose the color, outline the parameters (e.g., knee-length, matte fabric, no cleavage, etc.) but grant your bridesmaids the freedom to find the specific style that most flatters their figure. If one doesn't know how to make that determination, have your most attuned-to-proper-fit bridesmaid accompany her. Make clear to them you'll have the final say, perhaps even require an in-person fitting or a high-res photograph before the tags are cut, but at least in the beginning, give them the retail reins.

So there you have it, what I consider a bride's most gracious gift -- the gift of her friends' confidence intact.

If you're wondering how a topic like this landed on my usually anti-wedding radar, well, you've gotta do something while you're waiting in line for 40 minutes to buy a small container of guacamole and half-full bag of organic blue-corn chips at Whole Foods.

Why not eavesdrop?

(two women, mid-20s)

"Have you tried yours on yet?"

"Yeah, have you?"

"Yeah..."

(apprehensive) "What did you think?"

"What do you think I thought?"

"I have no idea why she chose that dress. It's so awful."

"It's beyond awful, it's ridiculous. It's a f**king ridiculous dress."

"It's one day, and then we can..."

"But the point is, for me to feel comfortable in that thing, I'm gonna have to lose like, five pounds. At least."

"Come on, it can't be that bad."

"When was the last time you remember seeing me wear a sleeveless anything? Anything? When??"

"Come on, it'll be..."

"The answer is 'never,' because I know my body and my body wasn't meant for something tight and strapless. Why, why would she do this to us? We're her best friends. I just don't get it."

"Because she's the bride and that's what brides do."

After this last sentence, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do more - run and kiss BridalBird for her decision to have only one, sisterly bridesmaid or to ask these two ladies for their friend's contact information so that she and I could have a serious sit-down.

Lifetime's best offering since "The Babysitter's Seduction"

Don't ask me why, because I'm not sure I could offer much in the way of an explanation, but I spent nine-tenths of my time this past weekend rediscovering my slothful side by taking in hours (and hours) of the deliciously vapid fare on which the Lifetime Network -and if you have mega cable, the Lifetime Movie Network (LMN) as well- has built its sterling reputation.

In stunning, before-they-were-famous performances I haven't seen since the days of dancing fingertips-to-shoulders to Firehouse ballads, Montesquieu and I spent the last three days in a perma-spoon watching Kirsten Dunst bitch it up prenatal-style in 15 and Pregnant, Keri Russell bikini her way into bed with Reverend Camden in The Babysitter's Seduction, Hilary Swank naïvely walk into a web of deadly sorority hijinx spun by Zach "campus reporter" Morris in Dying to Belong and Elizabeth Berkeley fight her urge for flannel-shirted boy flesh in Student Seduction.

If only we'd caught one or both of Meredith Baxter Birney's turns as scorned housewife Betty Broderick, it would've been the perfect weekend.

Once the PM set in on Sunday and the classic early '90s movies with themes of teenage motherhood and homewrecking were about to give way to newer, more socially sensitive pieces on human trafficking and (yawn) the homeless getting into Harvard, Monte nudged me hard in the kidney and shot me a "Mum, change it now" look.

But just as my newly-burgundied nails reached for the remote, a very familiar and very fabulous voice filled the room.

I'd recognize that spirited, sssss-heavy enunciation anywhere -- it belonged to none other than "Queer Eye's" resident style savant, Carson Kressley.

In one 79-second clip from the premiere of his new Lifetime show, "How to Look Good Naked," Carson summed up why, over the past 13 months, I've dedicated pretty much every waking moment of my non-working life to the cause of helping DC women pay closer attention to the way they dress.

Add one more to the Tivo Season Pass...

Lifetime's best offering since "The Babysitter's Seduction"

Don't ask me why, because I'm not sure I could offer much in the way of an explanation, but I spent nine-tenths of my time this past weekend rediscovering my slothful side by taking in hours (and hours) of the deliciously vapid fare on which the Lifetime Network -and if you have mega cable, the Lifetime Movie Network (LMN) as well- has built its sterling reputation.

In stunning, before-they-were-famous performances I haven't seen since the days of dancing fingertips-to-shoulders to Firehouse ballads, Montesquieu and I spent the last three days in a perma-spoon watching Kirsten Dunst bitch it up prenatal-style in 15 and Pregnant, Keri Russell bikini her way into bed with Reverend Camden in The Babysitter's Seduction, Hilary Swank naïvely walk into a web of deadly sorority hijinx spun by Zach "campus reporter" Morris in Dying to Belong and Elizabeth Berkeley fight her urge for flannel-shirted boy flesh in Student Seduction.

If only we'd caught one or both of Meredith Baxter Birney's turns as scorned housewife Betty Broderick, it would've been the perfect weekend.

Once the PM set in on Sunday and the classic early '90s movies with themes of teenage motherhood and homewrecking were about to give way to newer, more socially sensitive pieces on human trafficking and (yawn) the homeless getting into Harvard, Monte nudged me hard in the kidney and shot me a "Mum, change it now" look.

But just as my newly-burgundied nails reached for the remote, a very familiar and very fabulous voice filled the room.

I'd recognize that spirited, sssss-heavy enunciation anywhere -- it belonged to none other than "Queer Eye's" resident style savant, Carson Kressley.

In one 79-second clip from the premiere of his new Lifetime show, "How to Look Good Naked," Carson summed up why, over the past 13 months, I've dedicated pretty much every waking moment of my non-working life to the cause of helping DC women pay closer attention to the way they dress.

Add one more to the Tivo Season Pass...

Epiphany: 'dress-for-success' ain't just for the office

Let's face it, whether we're in the city, the country or the suburbs, in a pulsating nightclub, an ESPN Zone or a local dive bar, we as females -small and large, alike- know the easiest and most reliable way to avoid having to open up our pocketbooks and pay for a drink is to put forth a flagrant display of tits and/or ass.

Not saying it's right, not saying it's wrong, just saying from what I've heard and what I've witnessed, it's about 94% effective.

And if you're a blonde with streaky, chunky highlights and a set of acrylic French tips, tack on three more percentage points.

Because of that, because there is such a predictable male effect to the cause that is scant female dress, how can I fault all those plunging metallic halter tops and low-rise dance pants enrobed women to whom I shot "don't touch me, don't touch my shoes" looks last Saturday night at K St. Lounge? When I think about it, these women were there for a set of premeditated purposes, chief among them to meet men whose lady-frame pawing would make them feel desirable and whose open wallet policies would enable the lovely feeling of their last inhibition slip-slip-slippin' away.

Now, if I had seen a pair of fur-trimmed biker boots and a bejeweled romper with cutouts and built-in balconnet bra dancing tabletop where we started the evening, I'd have just cause for the "here's what you should've worn, instead" judgmentalies. Since that wasn't the case and since HRL and I were the ones who committed the venue-inappropriate offense by wearing into the sweaty sin-pit our delicate cocktail dresses and formal overcoats, I realize now, in this moment, even though it would be more satisfying to rip these girls apart, Bebe accessory by Bebe accessory, to do so would be incredibly hypocritical. Therefore, I'll just fold my hands, smile and nod deferentially and be darn sure to have on-hand a more appropriate little number for the next time my dear friend wants to explore K St. nightlife.

In a way, the aforementioned tabletop dancer and I are more alike than most of you might think. Sure, we both throw down the same quote-making gesture whilst performing the 'running man', we both think there's no point in buying fishnets that aren't full of rhinestony goodness, but there's something beyond the obvious -- a deeper, more substantive lifestyle parallel: just like I believe a polished office look can help give me an extra professional edge, she too runs a dress-for-success operation.

Same concept, slightly different definition of "success."

Epiphany: 'dress-for-success' ain't just for the office

Let's face it, whether we're in the city, the country or the suburbs, in a pulsating nightclub, an ESPN Zone or a local dive bar, we as females -small and large, alike- know the easiest and most reliable way to avoid having to open up our pocketbooks and pay for a drink is to put forth a flagrant display of tits and/or ass.

Not saying it's right, not saying it's wrong, just saying from what I've heard and what I've witnessed, it's about 94% effective.

And if you're a blonde with streaky, chunky highlights and a set of acrylic French tips, tack on three more percentage points.

Because of that, because there is such a predictable male effect to the cause that is scant female dress, how can I fault all those plunging metallic halter tops and low-rise dance pants enrobed women to whom I shot "don't touch me, don't touch my shoes" looks last Saturday night at K St. Lounge? When I think about it, these women were there for a set of premeditated purposes, chief among them to meet men whose lady-frame pawing would make them feel desirable and whose open wallet policies would enable the lovely feeling of their last inhibition slip-slip-slippin' away.

Now, if I had seen a pair of fur-trimmed biker boots and a bejeweled romper with cutouts and built-in balconnet bra dancing tabletop where we started the evening, I'd have just cause for the "here's what you should've worn, instead" judgmentalies. Since that wasn't the case and since HRL and I were the ones who committed the venue-inappropriate offense by wearing into the sweaty sin-pit our delicate cocktail dresses and formal overcoats, I realize now, in this moment, even though it would be more satisfying to rip these girls apart, Bebe accessory by Bebe accessory, to do so would be incredibly hypocritical. Therefore, I'll just fold my hands, smile and nod deferentially and be darn sure to have on-hand a more appropriate little number for the next time my dear friend wants to explore K St. nightlife.

In a way, the aforementioned tabletop dancer and I are more alike than most of you might think. Sure, we both throw down the same quote-making gesture whilst performing the 'running man', we both think there's no point in buying fishnets that aren't full of rhinestony goodness, but there's something beyond the obvious -- a deeper, more substantive lifestyle parallel: just like I believe a polished office look can help give me an extra professional edge, she too runs a dress-for-success operation.

Same concept, slightly different definition of "success."

Ring it in responsibly

And by that I mean...

...don't drink dry the Prosecco and leave your brother's friend's party with an overcompensatingly confident pocket-man. Trust;

...don't wear jeans and a chunky, ribbed turtleneck sweater -- be the one woman at the house party who doesn't look like she just RV-ed it over from a Big-10 tailgate. Come on ladies, vow to be the 'wow' even the happily married men can't help but stare at every time you enter the room;

....don't skip the eyeliner or second coat of mascara;

...don't delude yourself -- if it's too tight, it's too tight. Wear something that won't have you tugging, de-wrinkling, and pulling out puckers all evening;

...don't allow a sloppy, streaky-haired blonde in a sequined tube top to spill her too-full Jack-'n'-Coke on your Marchesa Notte tulle party dress. Identify this type right away and steer clear;

...don't go out without having listened to "Down in Mexico" and "Toy Soldier" (preferably while you pick out and slip on your matching unmentionables for a captive, man-in-chair audience);

...don't arrive at the party without a nice two-drink pre-party buzz, especially if where you're going is likely to have a more his-friends crowd;

...don't forget to eat at least one carb-enriched item before you head out (I have this one taped to my forehead and handbag);

...don't without-warning cry over a lost love and ruin everything for everyone (no matter what they tell you, you will kill the evening and it will be remembered);

and finally,

...don't whip out your camera phone to show every person you meet the 60-shot slide-show of the dog you "miss like a motherf**ker". If they don't know you, you will come off as the crazy dog lady.

I'll be in New York City tomorrow through Tuesday, so unfortch -as K would say- I won't be posting until two days into the new year. I double, no triple promise to miss all of you...except for maybe when I'm eye-banging one of my dream guys at King Cole Bar, or when S and I discover the meaning of life when we make our first pilgrimage to Mecca.

Kiss us into 2008, KimKar!

Ring it in responsibly

And by that I mean...

...don't drink dry the Prosecco and leave your brother's friend's party with an overcompensatingly confident pocket-man. Trust;

...don't wear jeans and a chunky, ribbed turtleneck sweater -- be the one woman at the house party who doesn't look like she just RV-ed it over from a Big-10 tailgate. Come on ladies, vow to be the 'wow' even the happily married men can't help but stare at every time you enter the room;

....don't skip the eyeliner or second coat of mascara;

...don't delude yourself -- if it's too tight, it's too tight. Wear something that won't have you tugging, de-wrinkling, and pulling out puckers all evening;

...don't allow a sloppy, streaky-haired blonde in a sequined tube top to spill her too-full Jack-'n'-Coke on your Marchesa Notte tulle party dress. Identify this type right away and steer clear;

...don't go out without having listened to "Down in Mexico" and "Toy Soldier" (preferably while you pick out and slip on your matching unmentionables for a captive, man-in-chair audience);

...don't arrive at the party without a nice two-drink pre-party buzz, especially if where you're going is likely to have a more his-friends crowd;

...don't forget to eat at least one carb-enriched item before you head out (I have this one taped to my forehead and handbag);

...don't without-warning cry over a lost love and ruin everything for everyone (no matter what they tell you, you will kill the evening and it will be remembered);

and finally,

...don't whip out your camera phone to show every person you meet the 60-shot slide-show of the dog you "miss like a motherf**ker". If they don't know you, you will come off as the crazy dog lady.

I'll be in New York City tomorrow through Tuesday, so unfortch -as K would say- I won't be posting until two days into the new year. I double, no triple promise to miss all of you...except for maybe when I'm eye-banging one of my dream guys at King Cole Bar, or when S and I discover the meaning of life when we make our first pilgrimage to Mecca.

Kiss us into 2008, KimKar!

Yes! Yes! A thousand times, YES!

Don't love the little neck-tie, really don't love the shoes, but here in Paris to celebrate Mssr. Z's 38th birthday, Ms. Knowles finally wears a more flattering, more asset-flaunting fabric, silhouette and hemline.

Really, you'd be surprised at how genuinely happy these pictures make me:

Yes! Yes! A thousand times, YES!

Don't love the little neck-tie, really don't love the shoes, but here in Paris to celebrate Mssr. Z's 38th birthday, Ms. Knowles finally wears a more flattering, more asset-flaunting fabric, silhouette and hemline.

Really, you'd be surprised at how genuinely happy these pictures make me:

Just 'cause you like it duhn't mean you should wear it

Oh Linds, it's not even your Tang-glow I'm focused on here...
Different day, different shoes, same issue.

Different day, different beverage, still the same issue.

I know I'm not the only one who sees the silhouette of a paint-roller here...

I'm not sure which is more perplexing, that Rihanna chose it or that Zac Posen designed it.

Stretch velvet stretched across your mid-section -- not in theory and definitely not in practice.
My expectations for Beyoncé to wear anything figure-flattering are so low that I almost didn't include her in the bunch. This look is pretty much par for the course for her, after all. My only request is that she please give satin a rest -- it never has been and never will be a "zaftig girl" fabric.

* check back later to see these women on better days. Though I must warn you, I can't promise I'll be able to find one for the hot mess, er House of Dereon above

Just 'cause you like it duhn't mean you should wear it

Oh Linds, it's not even your Tang-glow I'm focused on here...
Different day, different shoes, same issue.

Different day, different beverage, still the same issue.

I know I'm not the only one who sees the silhouette of a paint-roller here...

I'm not sure which is more perplexing, that Rihanna chose it or that Zac Posen designed it.

Stretch velvet stretched across your mid-section -- not in theory and definitely not in practice.
My expectations for Beyoncé to wear anything figure-flattering are so low that I almost didn't include her in the bunch. This look is pretty much par for the course for her, after all. My only request is that she please give satin a rest -- it never has been and never will be a "zaftig girl" fabric.

* check back later to see these women on better days. Though I must warn you, I can't promise I'll be able to find one for the hot mess, er House of Dereon above

Just 'cause you like it duhn't mean you should wear it

*analytic breakdown of what cuts these women should have worn to better flatter their figures coming later today...

Just 'cause you like it duhn't mean you should wear it

*analytic breakdown of what cuts these women should have worn to better flatter their figures coming later today...

Overall, an October of which JenCon should be proud

As you've probably noticed throughout the past 11 months, there are a handful of Hollywood women on whom I tend to keep a close watch.

Some of them, Scarlett, Monica, Kim and Jessica, to name a few, hold my interest for no other reason than their physical beauty. Put simply, these women, like this (my new favorite photo from The Sartorialist), are like art -- they're nice to look at from every angle.

Others, for example Katie, Natalie, Audrey, Ali, Rachel, Cate and Sienna, while still quite pleasing to the eye, are the women to whom I turn for style inspiration. They are the ones whose tastes and senses of style are most aligned with - or, as is the case with the last two, whose fashion choices challenge and expand - my own.

And finally, the last tier, a tier I've only recently discovered, includes those women whose figures I believe are the most style-versatile. These are the women who I believe have the legs, the arms, the shoulders, the back, the waist, the muscle tone, the height and just the right proportions to wear anything. I'm trying to work out on paper exactly what my indicators for entrance into this elite group are, because at present, the sole criterion for selection is the not-very-scientific whether or not I picture their figure in my head while I'm running off the two teaspoons of peanut butter that complemented my English Muffin that morning. So far, this category belongs to one woman and one woman only -- Jennifer Connelly*.

And the fact that I don't really care for her as an actress, a human being or a style star should lend credence to her selection as my ideal mannequin. That's right, feminists, to me she's nothing more than an objectified body on which I'd love to play dress-up.

As you'll see below, October was a busy red carpet month for Ms. Connelly. Her wardrobe choices varied from Tory Burch-looking cruise-wear (yick) to a dramatically-draped LBD (swoon) to a dreadful watercolor explosion (what's left to say that hasn't already been said?) to a prim and ladylike, ASJiNE hall-of-famer (double swoon).

Though I'd like to see her wear a little more McQueen and a little less Balenciaga - spokeswoman obligations or not - overall, this was a month of which JenCon should be proud.

At the "Women in Hollywood" party in a bead-trimmed, floral Balenciaga tunic
At the NYC premiere of Reservation Road in a bell-sleeved, ivory satin Versace mini

Arriving at "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" in an asymmetrically draped Balenciaga tank dress

At the Hollywood premiere of Reservation Road in a highly-structured technicolor Balenciaga mini

On the red carpet at the Hollywood Film Festival in slim, belted cherry-red strapless Alexander McQueen
Arriving at "The Late Show with David Letterman" in a mod-style cropped jacket and high-waisted pencil skirt, both by Giambattista Valli

*those on the cusp include Eva Mendes, Catherine Zeta-Jones circa now and Angelina Jolie circa 2004

Overall, an October of which JenCon should be proud

As you've probably noticed throughout the past 11 months, there are a handful of Hollywood women on whom I tend to keep a close watch.

Some of them, Scarlett, Monica, Kim and Jessica, to name a few, hold my interest for no other reason than their physical beauty. Put simply, these women, like this (my new favorite photo from The Sartorialist), are like art -- they're nice to look at from every angle.

Others, for example Katie, Natalie, Audrey, Ali, Rachel, Cate and Sienna, while still quite pleasing to the eye, are the women to whom I turn for style inspiration. They are the ones whose tastes and senses of style are most aligned with - or, as is the case with the last two, whose fashion choices challenge and expand - my own.

And finally, the last tier, a tier I've only recently discovered, includes those women whose figures I believe are the most style-versatile. These are the women who I believe have the legs, the arms, the shoulders, the back, the waist, the muscle tone, the height and just the right proportions to wear anything. I'm trying to work out on paper exactly what my indicators for entrance into this elite group are, because at present, the sole criterion for selection is the not-very-scientific whether or not I picture their figure in my head while I'm running off the two teaspoons of peanut butter that complemented my English Muffin that morning. So far, this category belongs to one woman and one woman only -- Jennifer Connelly*.

And the fact that I don't really care for her as an actress, a human being or a style star should lend credence to her selection as my ideal mannequin. That's right, feminists, to me she's nothing more than an objectified body on which I'd love to play dress-up.

As you'll see below, October was a busy red carpet month for Ms. Connelly. Her wardrobe choices varied from Tory Burch-looking cruise-wear (yick) to a dramatically-draped LBD (swoon) to a dreadful watercolor explosion (what's left to say that hasn't already been said?) to a prim and ladylike, ASJiNE hall-of-famer (double swoon).

Though I'd like to see her wear a little more McQueen and a little less Balenciaga - spokeswoman obligations or not - overall, this was a month of which JenCon should be proud.

At the "Women in Hollywood" party in a bead-trimmed, floral Balenciaga tunic
At the NYC premiere of Reservation Road in a bell-sleeved, ivory satin Versace mini

Arriving at "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" in an asymmetrically draped Balenciaga tank dress

At the Hollywood premiere of Reservation Road in a highly-structured technicolor Balenciaga mini

On the red carpet at the Hollywood Film Festival in slim, belted cherry-red strapless Alexander McQueen
Arriving at "The Late Show with David Letterman" in a mod-style cropped jacket and high-waisted pencil skirt, both by Giambattista Valli

*those on the cusp include Eva Mendes, Catherine Zeta-Jones circa now and Angelina Jolie circa 2004