Lip liner and Lisa Rinna hair, Katie? Really?

You can't even begin to know how excited I get when red carpet photos of these two sneak their way onto the Internet.

Say what you will about them, their height difference, Tom's creepy-crawly control issues we are all more than a little guilty of assuming are true and those pesky rumors of how L. Ron Hubbard has them feeding their precious one an elixir of milk, corn syrup and barley water. Like my haircut and my dog, no matter how many sticks and stones detractors like to throw in their direction, some objects of my affection are such done-deals they're immune to criticism.

Katie and Tom, my absolute favorite celebrity couple, are one of my non-negotiables.

But just because outsiders' judgments of Katie's style and Tom's loony-tune-edness don't affect me, doesn't mean I'm unwilling to proffer a few questions of my own when I see what I see here at the Berlin premiere of Tom's new film, Lions for Lambs, last night.

For once, my attention is not drawn to the dress. Though to be perfectly honest, when I look at this silver strapless cocktail frock with sweetheart neckline, crystal-encrusted bodice and pleated flounce skirt, I'm more torn between "meh" and "not my favorite" than I am inclined to hand down a love-it/hate-it verdict.

My interest here isn't in the shoes, which I adore, which deserve a post in their own rite (despite their matchy-matchiness with the dress) and certainly earn her redemption after last week's shalt-not-be-brought-up-again mistake.

No, what most piques my critical interest here has nothing to do with anything Katie's wearing per se, it's more to do with what's going on upstairs, namely with those puffy, lined lips and that flippy, limp, aging-soap-star hairstyle.

Just a few days ago, we had the pleasure of seeing you look like this. And then this. What gives?

More of Katie looking curiously not herself from the neck-up:

And a couple of close-ups of her newly-slimmed calves (from running, perhaps?) and those to die for sparkly slingback, bow-adorned, five-plus-inch platform peep-toes...

First the outfit, then the 'do

I know I can't stop thinking about Katie Holmes' super chic date-night outfit, so what do I do when I can't get something out of my head?

I go out and find it, of course. Or, as close a match as I can find in two very different price-points.

For those of you who can afford the 'If I had a Sugar Daddy' version, indulge in a belted Escada shirt dress ($2,590 at saks.com), a pair of round-toed pumps from Alexander McQueen ($545 at net-a-porter.com) and an on-sale small top-handle bag from Derek Lam ($779 at eluxury.com).

For those of you who, like myself, can't even begin to comprehend thinking about considering spending three grand on a dress, how about a slightly more 'Since I don't (yet)' ensemble with this belted 'Sheena' shirtdress from Diane von Furstenberg ($325 at dvf.com), these 'Julia' platform pumps from RSVP ($79.95 at zappos.com) and a 'Tenjune' top-handle clutch from Jessica Simpson ($108.95 at endless.com).

Please stop making me love your life

Introducing Katie Holmes and her newly-minted Oscar Blandi-razored bob.

I, for one, think she looks incredible. Absolutely, enchantingly incredible. Like a Mom but not like a Mom Mom, or a trying-to-be-a-hot-Mom Mom. The kind of woman who decided to have kids but refused to let carpooling and breastfeeding turn her into...well, you know what I'm talking about.

And yes, that's the babydaddy and her below out for another dressed-up Tuesday night date at Wolfgang Puck's new steakhouse Cut, which, incidentally, is housed in the same hotel in which Vivian and Edward fell in love in Pretty Woman. Could you make this any harder on me than you've already made it, Katie?

Though grainy, here are a few more pics of Katie 2.0, her simple top-handle clutch, chiffon animal-print belted shirt-dress, round-toed YSL pumps and that nice husband of hers who wears a three-piece just 'cause:

That was supposed to be *my* life

Alienation from my family and young motherhood aside, every time I see a picture of Katie Holmes lately, all I can think of is, "Why does she get to live my life?"

Whether People's "Star Tracks" catches her shopping at Barney's with Posh, going to an upscale steakhouse on date-night with Tom or just strapping her eyelet-bedecked offspring into a bullet-proof Tahoe, I can't help but liken each photo to a still from some great, sweeping epic.

My epic.

The elegant, simply-cut black clothing, the understated luxe shoes, the ultra-refined gentleman in a three-piece holding her hand promenade-style in front of a vintage American sports car, the looks-like-she's-not-wearing-makeup-but-in-fact-it's-just-really-well-applied fresh face, the mysterious friendships with older women with foreign accents -- this is the life I always expected, right down to the name-change (it's "Kate" now, according to his Maverick-ness), the career micromanagement (she gave up the highly-prized role of Edie Sedgwick at the behest of her baby-daddy) and her modernly tousled Rita-Hayworth-in-Gilda hairstyle.

Like just about everything, though, I suppose it's all about timing, luck and genetics, only one, maybe two of which I seem to possess.

But to be completely honest, as much as I covet just about every aspect of Ms. Holmes-Cruise's life, there's not a doubt in my mind that I would turn down being Tom's beard/prisoner/science project if it meant I had to watch my ankles swell from this in 2002 to what you see here.

As few DVF wrapdresses and Bollinger Grand Année cocktails as my "Clever and leggy beats rich and cankley" mantra has earned me up to this point, I am committed in-full to upholding the notion that a quick-wit and a stunning pair of shapely pins are all a woman needs to be truly happy and successful.

That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.

Enjoy the striking style and beyond-her-years grace of the woman through whom I have no choice but to live vicariously: