Oscars 2012 Red Carpet: For A Night To Remember

Dazzling and debonair, actors and actresses arrived on the 2012 Oscars red carpet looking their very best. Dressed in stunning designer frocks, with brilliant smiles and fluttering hearts, Hollywood's top contenders were thrilled to be at the 84th Annual Academy Awards at the Kodak Theatre in Hollywood.
"This is our Super Bowl, isn't it guys?" asked E! News host Giuliana Rancic.

On Hollywood's biggest night of the year, all eyes were on the red carpet. Celebrities, no doubt, underwent a plethora of preparations and a calming of nerves before hitting the 2012 Oscars. Luckily, the reliable Southern California weather was sunny and warm; droplets of rain would have only wilted hours of primping and prodding.

Many of the dresses came straight from the runways in Paris, New York, London and Milan. Stylists typically present their celebrity clientele with 40 to 80 dress options. The most of-the-moment, wow-factor dress is typically chosen. Glenn Close wore custom-made Zac Posen; Viola Davis chose a brilliantly bright frock.

This year, the Oscars red carpet was just not about superficial beauty. It was also about conscientiousness.
The third annual Red Carpet Green Dress contest took place this year and the winner, Valentina Delfino, got to dress "The Artist" ensemble actress Missi Pyle's 5-foot, 11-inch frame in an eco-friendly gown. Made from organic silk, hand-dyed mineral pigments and recycled polyester, Pyle made a momentous statement with her attire. The contest was established in 2010 by Suzy Amis Cameron, wife of "Titanic" and "Avatar" director James Cameron.

"Ultimately, Red Carpet Green Dress isn't about beautiful gowns," Cameron told the Los Angeles Times. "It's really about bringing awareness to the fact that we can be kind to the planet and still wear something really gorgeous - and to then take that a step further, for people to think about the carbon footprint of their everyday clothes."

Another trend on the 2012 Oscars red carpet was minimal jewels. Delicate jewelry serves to complement a beautiful actress and her equally beautiful gown. There is no need for chunky, overpowering jewelry when you are wearing Chanel or Versace.

"Jewelry should be minimalistic - the dress should be the 'celebrity,' so to speak," fashion designer Allen B. Schwartz told The Jerusalem Post. "We're moving towards a very minimal period of accessorization," added designer Marc Bouwer. "If people are going to wear something, it's going to be one strong piece or almost nothing at all."

The Oscars have the uncanny ability to turn actresses into princesses for one night. Some are even raised to the level of goddesses. These women are the best dressed. From Angelina Jolie to Jessica Chastain, from Michelle Williams to Bérénice Bejo, a fabulous dress can truly transform its wearer.

Sometimes the red carpet brings shocking fashion surprises. In 1996, Sharon Stone tossed aside what was most likely a mountain of designer dresses handed to her and opted for a GAP turtleneck! Needless to say, Stone did not make any "Best Dressed" lists.

Movie Review:The Grey

John Ottway (Liam Neeson) awakens stretched out across a row of upholstered seats firmly planted in the wet ground. Unbuckling the seatbelt, Ottway carefully lifts himself and stands erect. He dazedly scans his surroundings: a never-ending horizon of white. This isn't some angelic purgatory. It's the unforgiving, Alaskan Arctic. Spotting an embankment, Ottway clumsily scampers to its summit and finds a disemboweled fuselage, separated from the wings of his charter plane.

Miraculously surviving a plane crash may just prove to be Ottway's death sentence. He must brace himself for the sub-Arctic cold, assuming he can fend off the first night's hypothermia. Then he has to deal with the remaining survivors -- fellow ex-cons and undesirables, employed to protect an oil company's refinery. But if the humans don't tear each other to shreds then there are the carnivorous, bloodthirsty wolves, tempted by the smell of fresh carcass, and of course, the thrill of live meat.

While this catastrophic crash may be what sets director Joe Carnahan's narrative in motion, the usually over-indulgent, bombastic filmmaker (Smokin' Aces, The A-Team) has pared back his aesthetic gimmicks in The Grey. Despite a marketing team adamantly trying to convince the public otherwise, this man versus the wild yarn is short on superfluous action and gore; instead, it is a traditional B-movie deftly told and contemplative in its craftsmanship.

Cast adrift in the opening minutes, Ottway buries himself amid the powdered arctic by day, protecting pipeline workers from the aggressive wildlife. Yet when off-duty, he finds himself among other similarly employed ex cons. He is a wandering shell of a man, overtaken by melancholy. He appears doomed. Such exposition is carefully handled in a hallucinatory monologue set to poetic verse -- a letter he is writing to his dearly departed wife. It is all eerily autobiographical, conjuring up Neeson's own personal tragedy (the untimely death of his spouse, Natasha Richardson). And perhaps it makes the viewer all the more open to Neeson's on screen trauma.

Managing a tall philosophical order, The Grey works because it sticks to the genre's narrative conventions while depicting the harsh reality of the physical world. Carnahan spares us from quick-edit obscenity, allowing Ottway and a team filled out by expert supporting players -- Dallas Roberts, Frank Grillo, Joe Anderson, and Dermot Mulroney -- to shed their alpha male reticence quickly after the plane's wreckage has settled. Grim but never cynical, The Grey elicits the sensorial by focusing on its human subjects. For the first time since his debut Narc, Carnahan shows restraint, relying on performance rather than a pair of digital, editing room scissors. He composes moments of grisly beauty.



After the film's crash, Ottway and company tend to a bleeding compatriot (James Badge Dale) who has punctured a vital organ. He lies in repose frightened, pleading, and in need of a consoling hand. Carnahan lingers on the death. As the wound gushes blood, some men watch in terror; others mitigate the pain; another laughs in confounding hysteria. But each of these hardened men succumbs to the circumstance's otherworldliness. It's honest, ugly, visceral, and for these stoics, an encounter with their destiny that will in all likelihood occur sooner rather than later.

In this vast expanse of hopelessness, The Grey is a rare mainstream action picture, exploratory in genre and of whatever lies beyond. Ultimately ten minutes too long and concluding a bit too tidy for the questions it poses, The Grey, however, does dare to show not merely the human imperative to survive under the most primal conditions; but it abides by an honor code of human dignity, separating us from the amoral beasts that prey.

Whitney Houston:I Will Always Love You

As you all know by now, one of the most famous, beloved singers of all time, Whitney Houston, passed away unexpectedly on Saturday, February 11, 2012 in her Beverly Hills hotel room. Although there is speculation that the 48-year-olds death was due to a combination of drugs and alcohol, no official cause of death has been confirmed. But does it even matter how she died? Fans of the six-time Grammy-winning, 170-million-album-selling artist don't seem to think so. When the news broke on Saturday, people began to flock to her discography.

As a result, 195,000 digital copies of the best-selling single of all time by a female artist, Houston's "I Will Always Love You," have been purchased in the past week. Those sales, combined with a huge presence on the radio, have propelled the song back into the top 10 of Billboard's Hot 100 singles chart for the first time since 1993. It currently sits at No. 7, while two of Houston's other songs, "I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)" and "Greatest Love Of All," sit at Nos. 35 and 41, respectively. She may be gone, but Ms. Houston's music will certainly live on forever.


As a style blogger, it feels weird to write about the passing of Whitney Houston. Like it's not my place or something. Culture critics like Sasha Frere-Jones from The New Yorker and Rich Juzwiak from The Daily have written beautiful, moving pieces about her legacy and the significance of her career, and knowing both of them professionally, I can testify to how heartfelt the eulogies are. After the news of her death broke, MTV aired an hour-long music video special last night, and though part of me wants to chime in about that voice, and what she did for women of color in music, the aspect of Whitney Houston's life that we'll talk about here is her memorable music video style.

From her super '80s, backless, body-con getup in "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" to the all-white fur coat and white flip-flops of a G'd up Whitney decrying some philandering scumbag in "Heartbreak Hotel," the fascinating thing about the Jersey-born Guinness Record-holding multi-platinum recording artist is that despite her model body and stunning face she never fell victim to a hypersexualized image.

It's not that she downplayed her good looks (she was always immaculately turned out) but in revisiting all of her greatest hits, it's notable that she predominantly opted for big-lapel suits, ripped-up boyfriend jeans, oversize leather and denim jackets, knee-length skirts, and a grip of turtlenecks. With the exceptions of her early work like "I Wanna Dance..." and "How Will I Know," Houston rarely played the protagonist of her videos (though I guess she did take a turn as the "other woman" in "Saving All My Love").

She was usually the omniscient narrator, which apparently required some sartorial gravitas. Seriously, take a minute and watch EVERY video and you'll notice she wears a jacket or coat in a great number of them. Whitney Houston never met a matte red lipstick she didn't like (until she discovered an appropriate dark burgundy for "It's Not Right But It's Okay"), and nobody wore a turban or choker better. Nobody. So in honor of a style icon and a game-changer, we bring you Whitney through her music videos.