Open Letter To Raven Symone

Raven, my lil bacon buttered biscuit,

I love you. Really I do. So I say this with all the kindness I can muster. DAWHUT DA HELL ARE YOU WEARING? Seriously, had my stylist tried to convince me to go on stage as a black Big Bird in biker boots, you would have heard that backslap around the world. Every last piece of clothing you have on (and you have on A LOT) is ill-fitting and just plain fug. But let's start at the top.

Your weave. It's atrocious. And the sleep mask as a fashion accessory? No, boo. Some things should be left in the boudoir. And not only is the atrocious black and red kinky mess of a wig washing you out, but you look not to be wearing a stitch of makeup. We all know how I feel about such matters. Un-for-givable. You are on stage for goodness sake, this is what they make stage makeup for! Hello! Are you listening, sweet pea?

As a representative of the curvy girls of the world, you have to be so careful with your fashion choices. Those lil size zeros may be able to get away with a feathered corset on top of a drapy tee on top of a tank on top of leggings, but you my love, cannot. Bulk is not your friend. And neither is your stylist. Or anyone else that you crossed paths with before taking the stage.

Let's just do like Alicia Keys and call this a lesson learned, yes?

Loving you long time, Elle

P.S. I like your boots. Just not on you.

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Open Letter to Jenna Jameson

Dearest Jenna,

I almost choked on my low carb bagel just now. Honey, this may just be the worst eye makeup I have ever witnessed first hand. Worse even than a thin strip of chalk white shadow on the upper lash line of a brown-skinned chick (soooo effin wrong). Sure, you're a porn star extraordinaire. Therefore, my style expectations for you are pretty much non-existent. But this is beyond my comprehension. Seriously, poptart, you look like an komodo dragon. That makeup would only be appropriate had you tucked your twig and berries into a couture gown and worked the runway at drag ball to 'Let No Man Put Asunder.' Do us all a favor and fire your makeup artist, stat. He/she obviously can't be trusted.

Luh you boo,

Elle

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Open Letter to Kym Whitley

Dearest Kymmie-poo,

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I vote no.

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Love you still,

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Elle

Open Letter to Brittany Murphy

My darling lil fishlips,

First of all, cocaine is a helluva drug. Do try to cut down. With a clear head you'll realize that less (makeup, accessories, coke) really is more. This look didn't have to end in disaster. Had you chosen a black platform or boot rather than those shocking white shoes and nixed that looooong drapy scarf altogether, you just may have pulled this look off. Coco Chanel said it best, "Take one thing off before leaving the house." In your case, two or three. And start with a your makeup.

Hugs not drugs,

Elle

Open Letter to Keyshia Cole

My darling lil olive loaf,

First, let me thank you for the hood-tastic entertainment that is your reality show. Last episode when your mom flipped that chair I had flashbacks from "Crackheads Gone Wild." Fun-ny. But there are more pressing matters at hand. You were spotted on TRL this week wearing what I can only call a cream and white fright. I need answers. Is that a skirt? Is that a shirt? Where does one end and the other begin? Were you told there was a Winter Wonderland theme? Pickle, your outfit is clouding my mind with confusion and white noise. Please ask your stylist to back away from the sewing machine and stop ripping up old sweaters. You FINALLY have the right hair color and style, but everything doesn't have to match, cupcake. In closing...and you knew this was coming...you shoulda let this go. *Rimshot!*

Luh you still, Elle

Photos via Wire Image

Open Letter to Brooke Hogan

Lil Miss-guided,

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What kind of fuckery is this? I have sat idly by while you brazenly wore ass-less, denim chaps, not just once but a few times this summer, spreading your horribly horrible fashion sense all over tarnation, but now I am officially pissed. Is this what you call getting gussied-up for an awards show? I have three words for you: TRAGIC TRANNY MESS. This gives me an idea for a Halloween costume this year. Thundercats, ho! You could be Cheetara and I would be Panthro so that I could nun-chuck your taste-less ass! Aren't you 19 years old? Between the hair and the makeup you could pass for 45...and three quarters. Hello?! Brooke?! Are you even listening?!?!?! Oh, never mind.

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Damn you,

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Elle

Open Letter to Sharon Stone

Dearest Sharon-luv,
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First, let me say that you are a gorgeous woman. Fifty, fit and fabulous! But, and this is a big but, when you choose to wear a gown that looks like the wrath of God has come to strike out your womb, you are taking the attention away from your beauteous face. Are you carrying the demon seed? Is the dress hemorrhaging? That second picture is the most disturbing. It's touching Dita!!! You know she's prolly barren now. And I blame you. So here's the good news, doll, all is not lost. You can turn this around. When you know better, you do better.
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Kisses, hugs and drugs,
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Elle

Open Letter to Beth Mattek

Beth Mattek, 22, American tennis player

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My darling lil love trollop,

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You are handling your business on the courts of the U.S. Open...good for you, gumdrop! But your outfit...are you serious? Was it Studio 54 day at the Open? Metallic is officially inappropriate for the tennis court. I may have given you a pass if it wasn't for the coordinating Wonder Woman headband...were you trying to blind your opponent? Or perhaps distract them with your heaving breasticles? Either way, I beg of you, don't let it happen again.

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Hugs not drugs, Elle