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:

Forgive me, but...

I was just about to put the final touches on my follow-up to the "Duhn't" piece from last Wednesday when I had the deeply painful misfortune to come across these pictures below.

And frankly, as much as I want to keep my word and show you examples of Lindsay/Mary-Kate/Rihanna/Paris on more flattering days, I really can't do much of anything right now due to the fact that my eyes are bleeding.

This woman swung her third style strike with me back in the late '90s with this gem, so it's not like I'm devastated or surprised or anything like that, but still, this dress is an amateurish compilation of fit, color and fabric mistakes that even she should have recognized.

At your own risk, Beyoncé at 'Movies Rock 2007' earlier this evening in a skin-tight mermaid-style satin bodystocking by Zac Posen:
You know, hon, I wouldn't give them that angle, either...

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...

Uh, I think I might like Reeboks again

And yes, this new campaign might have had something to do with my abrupt turnaround.

How is it that Scarlett in a pair of cotton leggings, a workout tank and an oversized sweatshirt still manages to look hotter than this fool in a minidress and heels?

Oh right, those.

All sorts of wrong

It's not as if I have Rachel Bilson-like standards for a woman who has a body this fine but chooses to drape it in outfits like this and this, but come on, this sticky-sweet-pink Jessica McClintock circa 1991 prom lookbook dress with exaggerated sweetheart neckline and giant fabric front-folds has got to be a joke.

It just has to be. How else could Chloë Sevigny justify wearing this thing, not to mention her eerily symmetrical, got-my-hair-done-by-a-mall-stylist side tendrils, and an oversized gold and citrine crucifix a la the "Live a Virgin" video at her first mainstream movie premiere since, well, ever.

If it weren't for her bow-adorned row-toeds and hands-in-pocket stance (why do I love that so much?), Ms. Sevigny would be relegated to joining the committee of style assbackwardness spearheaded by co-chairs - and (yawn) pageant queens - Beyoncé and Vanessa Minillo.

One has to wonder, though, with the hard-to-box judgment Chloë has clearly and intentionally demonstrated in her acting career (The Brown Bunny, anyone?), could this dress just be an ironic 'eff-you to the Hollywood community that for nearly a decade has failed to get her searingly intense and cerebral tastes?

Who knows, but I'm sticking with my first instinct -- I just don't think she can dress herself.

Worst five

These aren't in any particular order, mainly because I couldn't decide between Kirsten Dunst in Chanel and Beyoncé in Armani Privé not only whose dress was the bigger mistake but also who most egregiously grandstanded their worst feature.

Wonky teeth or knees the size of basketballs -- you decide.

And no, I don't feel bad for including 10 year old sweet-as-berry-pie Abigail Breslin in this group. The bodice of her dress looks like one of the planters from my Malibu Barbie pool house. I expected more from her handlers.

The biggest disappointment of the night is Anne Hathaway's black and white WTF Valentino gown. After On Demand-ing The Devil Wears Prada for the third time today, I figured she would be in my top five, maybe even crack the top three, but nuh-uh, not in this column dress with white lace overlay and awkwardly large black bow that is smack dab in front of - and prohibitively blocking - Ms. Hathaway's spectacular rack.

And then there's Jada Pinkett-Smith in her brassy-gold strapless corseted Carolina Herrera number. I wouldn't hate this dress as much if it was on a less annoying woman and didn't have those two superfluous miniature bows on the bodice. Actually, I'm pretty sure she'd end up in my bottom five no matter what she wore.

She's that annoying.

Enjoy.

Equilibrium

I'm not saying the young woman deserved what she got.

Not really.

But I certainly wasn't going to slacken my pace and offer my Tide-to-go stick to someone who just moments prior to spilling the better part of her vanilla Slim Fast all over herself had given me an unreasonably, undeservedly cool glare at the intersection of 15th and M.

It was the kind of glare a suit-and-sneakers girl - a wide-pinstriped-suit-and-crosstrainers girl - makes a habit of throwing at women in 4-inch, round-toed, brown croc, Mary Jane stilettos with deconstructed sidebows simply because they remind her of how proletariat she looks carrying her half-inch, block-heeled, square-toed (I'm assuming) slides in the front flap of her black-floral quilted fempack.

I'm not saying you should refuse the free bag with your three-greeting-card purchase, I'm just saying there does exist an implicit understanding you're not actually supposed to take it outside of the subdivision -- even if it's in the backseat of your sensibly-priced, character-free Japanese four-door.

Bag aside, this woman immediately struck me as the type who would proudly wear the smell of ineffective liquid meal replacement as a badge of anti-vanity rather than duck into the nearby Ann Taylor to swap her soiled top for a crisp, final-clearance button-up, and so I thought better about donating to her the 20% off coupon I'd tucked into my hardcover on my way out the door this morning.

I have to remind myself sometimes that the end-goal of this blog is not to transform everyone in DC but rather to reach as close a model of dynamic equilibrium, fashion-wise, as possible.

For every Scarlett Johanssen there must be a Beyoncé, for every Cate Blanchett a Jessica Simpson, and for every Penelope Cruz/Salma Hayek, yes, even a crawfish-faced Kirsten Dunst.

It's science. Le Chatelier proved it: