Roland Mouret’s totally obscene heels. These are what Maggie Gyllenhaal should have worn for Secretary. This is turning into a full-on Gyllenhaal week here.

Full Roland Mouret show report here.

P.S. Gemma Ward looks dumb as paint in absolutely every photograph ever taken of her. Like her eyes can’t focus or something.

This is the sweetest coat we’ve ever seen, and it is way too good for Kirsten Dunst’s bony shoulders. Sort of like Jake Gyllenhaal. Unless he’s really boring and shorter than he looks on camera. It’s such a pain in the ass remembering that hot celebrities can be just as boring as, like, the boy who sat next to us in gym class in middle school, who just sort of stared at the ceiling for three years.

Full Balenciaga fall show here. OK, seriously, we just thought of this: We’ve recently become a little obsessed with buying a summer house, which we have just about as much a chance of doing as flying to the moon on that new Richard Branson space-mobile. But this house obsession has us thinking that maybe we’ll come around on weddings the way we’re coming around on house-buying. (Problem: At this point, we associate weddings with divorce and mortality, possibly not in that order. This is, as you might expect, our boyfriend’s totally very favorite thing to talk about.) But seriously, weddings, schmah, whatever. We need to skip the wedding and just throw a big party and spend all the money we would have been forced to give to caterers and shitty weekend DJs on Balenciaga dresses. Success!

Well, we just called that “top five,” but the thing about embroidered jeans is that they’re almost over before we can discuss them. It’s like—”Em-” and then it’s over. Because these have about all the longevity of, say, a lava lamp. Even a lava lamp isn’t quite as disposable as we’d like to finish out that metaphor, but the thing about anything more disposable than that is we’ve already forgotten what it is.

Above, Joe’s Nirali Jeans, featuring “thick bohemian embroidered flowers in every hue and height sprout[ing] on the right leg and left back pocket.” $275, proving once more that bohemian = stealth rich = thoroughly freaking annoying. These jeans are so, like, totally normal from the front, like you could go to dinner with somoene, and they’d be like, oh, totally normal, and then you turn to go to the bathroom or something, and you have crazy embroidered flowers all over your ass.

These Blue Cult Kate Stretch jeans are so subtle, embroidery-wise, that they almost don’t count. Don’t they kind of look like weird owl eyes? Er, not sure if we can totally recommend these, though we otherwise love Blue Cult. $142

These are not subtle. Not subtle in every way. And who thought that lime-green boots were a good styling option? Argh, the way things are going, this is turning out to be like “Worst-Ever Five” or “Five Shitty Options” or something. Caslon Embroidered Jeans. Ha! This is where we’d usually put the price, but these are sold out. That is so messed up. Maybe we’re totally high and these are totally hot jeans.

And then, see, these True Religion jeans are totally unsubtle. Do we really need a pair of jeans with the embroidered design of a half-naked wood sprite or fairy or whatever she is? And what is that bizarre blue blanket covering the lower half of her body, like the wood nymph got all modest all of a sudden? So bizarre.

Is it just us or does that embroidery, placed where it is, look more like a rash than sewing? Habitual’s Koi Embroidered Jeans, $228

And finally, these sort-of cute Sass and Bides. Still, it’s like, “Oh, look at this chess piece on my ass.” Sigh.

Honestly, we can’t even begin to get into how fucking annoying this week has been.

We really did record this on the side of a highway, so excuse the occasional pause while we waited for some four-by-four to smash into the side of our car \\ contemplation of the possibility that our deaths would be recorded on Audioblogger, which would been very, very annoying and just a tiny bit cool.

Really, please excuse the clutter. Did we mention this is the issue with Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck on the cover? This has been one motherfucking annoying week.

BS returns to its usual quasi-schedule on Monday, unless we’re still in some part of the world without phone or Internet access, and we’ve drowned ourselves in the lake.

This Care Bear backpack has got to be the dorkiest thing we’ve ever seen, and thus, a winner! If you’re saying, “But that’s not nearly as dorky as what I have,” then you didn’t enter, and hmm, looks like you missed out on a Jocasi belt. If you did enter, then thank you so much, that is so wonderful, and now you know that what you have is not as dorky as you thought. P.S. to the person who sent in a picture of her Uggs: They are not dorky. They are just evil.

Anyway, congratulations to our winner Julie!

So please accept our apologies in the form of this censored Dolce and Gabbana ad from the Houston Chronicle. The ultra-helpful caption reads: “A fig leaf covers what we can’t let you see.” Score two points for working biblical references into a porn-y Dolce and Gabbana ad.

Tomorrow the dorkiest item ever winner. ENTRIES CLOSE AT MIDNIGHT TONIGHT. Deadline! And we really mean it this time, not like the five other times! Enter or rue.

Have you entered the dorkiest thing you own contest? We hate the word “dorky.” It is, in fact, quite dorky. But “gay,” which was someone’s nefarious suggestion, seemed a little … potentially aggravating, and “lame” didn’t do it for us either. Do you see how we’re going on and on? This is because we are truly trying to just give you a Jocasi belt, for doing nothing more complicated than sending us a picture of the dorkiest thing you own, and it’s kind of freaking us out. We wish someone else was having this contest, so we could win. Free: Jocasi belt. All you need to do: Send us a picture. (We will publish it, so smile nice for us. And NB you don’t actually have to appear in it at all, if you’re shy like that.) Deadline: Monday. Now: Go!

What percentage of jewelry that we see is ugly? Why can’t we write a sentence today? Er, anyway, the answer is something like 90%. It is all so freaking ugly. That is why we totally pee (much like Fergie, have you seen this photo, that we’re still amazed by, from our brilliant commentor Abby?) over Serge Thoraval. Partly it is because the bio on his website is written in nicely broken English:

Serge THORAVAL is born in Paris, at the bottom of the stairs of the Sacred Heart of Montmartre; as a young boy, he wants to be an engineer and spends hours on detailed drafts of a car, moved by elastic bands.

That’s all verbatim, and it’s genius. But mostly it’s because he makes such beautiful things, like bangles with little pretentious lines of philosophy and literature on them. But that’s okay; sometimes pretension is fine.

He has a shop in Tokyo that, hmm, we might not get to for a little while. We saw them at a shop called Aime in London, with all these nasty shop girls saying nasty things about us in French. Precisely, “She has been here for 20 minutes; I want to go home.” Nevermind it was like 3:30 on a sunny spring afternoon. You know, stereotypes suck, unless they are the ones about how Americans don’t know any foreign languages, but you do, and you can understand everything everyone is saying about you.

If you are neither in London nor Tokyo, you can also find them at Destination at 32-36 Little West 12th Street in Manhattan or, if you’re in L.A., ah, too bad about that. But you can still find them at Debout Shoes, 13023 Ventura Blvd, which is apparently somewhere in southern California.

From Stockholm, where we learn how to dress like a Swedish hipster. We would like to say here that Sweden was delightful, and if we could forever live in one of their hostels, we would.

Step 1: Furry hat. Conveniently, these are everywhere right now, due to that whole bizarre Russian thing.
Step 2: Vintage bag. Easy enough.
Step 3: Mini skirt over shorts. This is like if you were writing a recipe for hell for anyone other than model-ish Swedish girl with skinny legs.
Step 4: Cowboy boots over tights. Again, you might as well just hand these out with Prozac for people other than our healthily waifish Scandinavian friends.

We would like to add here that this is the most stalkerish thing we have ever done, running after these people to take these picture. Which accounts for the blurriness if not the psychosis.