The many alcohol-fueled antics and violated probations of actress Michelle Rodriguez have made it almost impossible for us to keep track of what, exactly, her current legal status is. And to be honest, she was so terrible on Lost that we kind of didn't care. But Rodriguez may have given us all a clue as to her situation on Monday night at the Marc Jacobs show, when she showed up wearing what looked suspiciously like a police-issue anklet. Is she starting a spring trend of wearing leg jewelry that's the size of a roll of duct tape and about as comfy-looking as a vise? If so, we are eager to see Lindsay Lohan sporting them all the way up her left calf, then tripping over her own lopsidedness as she attempts to leave an L.A. hotspot while flashing a peace sign. Rodriguez offset her, ahem, anklet, with a floaty, seasonally inappropriate strapless white confection. Michelle, has it been a while since you left home? It's minus-eleventy outside, girl. Wiggle some stockings under that leg cuff, at the very least.
Shackles aside, mercifully, Rodriguez wasn't the only celeb who decided Marc Jacobs was worth leaving home to see. Anna Wintour and daughter Bee Shaffer arrived with lusty and luscious crooner Harry Connick Jr. Wife Jill Goodacre was nowhere in sight as Anna led Harry by the hand through a throng of feisty photographers. Between Connick and last year's escort Roger Federer, the indomitable Vogue editrix has pretty stellar taste in man-candy; we want a replica of whatever piñata she beats every year in order to get them to fall into her lap.
Legendary designer Roberto Cavalli swept through with much fanfare, proclaiming theatrically, "[Fashion] is in my DNA. I have to be here!" By comparison, Diane von Furstenberg's swift entrance was positively muted. Lenny Kravitz, Lil' Kim, Amber Valletta, and Helena Christensen also came; we were happy to see that Helena looked more put-together than she did last year, when we exited the show behind her and noticed she had safety pins holding her skirt together. Maybe she borrowed some duct tape from Michelle Rodriguez's ankle this year?
The stands were so packed that latecomer Russell Simmons, among others, sat in a makeshift row right in front of the photographers. Stone and Katharine McPhee watched the show side-by-side in the front row and appeared to hit it off, chatting and gossiping throughout. At several points McPhee shifted in her seat and turned her back to neighbor Kimberly Stewart. Poor Kimberly; always the bridesmaid. Even with dad Rod to her right, she and her ridiculous milkmaid hairdo were as invisible as ever. That is, until Rod said something charming during the show, at which point McPhee reached across Kimberly to pat his leg as if to say, "You rakish rogue, you!" Apparently, Rod's still got it if by "it" you mean "the spiky mullet of legend."
The show itself at first threatened to be positively tame by Jacobs's standards, with a long straight runway extending from a crimson curtain. But when the lights on this 8 p.m. presentation finally went down at 9:21 p.m., the drapes opened to reveal all the models posed almost like mannequins on a set that resembled a Great Gatsby–era cocktail party, with a little of the Royal Ascot scene from My Fair Lady thrown in for good measure. One by one the models unfroze and strutted down the runway, sporting modernized twenties and forties hats and clothes and absolutely none of the flaming hair that the latest rumors promised. The clothing was actually kind of feminine and classic, and marquee model Shalom Harlow looked fab in a fetching scarlet number. Where has she been these days, anyway? She was so good in that Freddie Prinze Jr., movie that one time.
Still, as much as the Incredible Shrinking Jacobs he's lost so much weight milked visual interest and grace out of what could've been a staid store-window setup, we did miss seeing a great big nutjob of a spectacle like last year's walk-on-water theme. We might not like his clothes 99 percent of the time, but we are hugely entertained by pageantry. Yes, it's true: We act grossed out when the clothes are crazy, but then we're totally bored when they're all pretty and wearable. We really cannot be pleased. The Fug Girls