We've Got a Bad Feeling About This: Jessica Simpson has called out two different men as her "soulmate." The first was husband Nick Lachey -- and we all know how that turned out. More recently, she used the schmoopy word to describe her relationship with her joined-at-the-hip hair stylist Ken Paves. Jess, honey, we're starting to think "soulmate" might not mean what you think it means. No one who truly cares about you would let you strike a pose at the MTV Movie Awards modeling tragic, two-tone tresses last seen framing the fuzzy face of Chewbacca. Unfortunately, Simpson's guffaw-inducing coif is only part of the problem. Her geometric Gucci mini-dress with handy handcuff belt not only fails to take flight off the runway but it creates an unflattering abyss where her cleavage should be. Seems Jessica's father-manager-overlord-and-creepily-youthful-date-for-the-evening Joe Simpson was wrong when he crowed about her "double D's." Turns out you can, in fact, cover those suckers up. But, as evidenced here, you probably shouldn't.

Diss Me Kate: If paparazzi pics are any indication, Kate Beckinsale spends most of her waking hours working up a serious sweat at the gym. So why why why would she hide her hard-earned hard body beneath this dire, dated jumpsuit, an odious one-piece that might have been, like, totally trippendicular on Deborah Foreman in "Valley Girl" circa 1983 but at the MTV Movie Awards is the epitome of a neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie. Adding to Kate's time-warp woes: her mile-wide white belt seemingly stolen from her last weight-lifting session; Jiffy-Pop shoulder pads, which would be equally at home on Melanie Griffith in "Working Girl" or at an NFL training camp; and matching pumps swiped from the oversized feet of that ultimate '80s fashion victim, Smurfette.

The Sorrow and the Pity: The day we've long dreaded has arrived. Yes, Mariah Carey's fashion sense has finally given up the ghost. Join us, won't you, as we mourn its passing by working through the five stages of grief. Denial: Our eyes must be playing tricks on us. It's simply not possible for a 36-year-old woman -- even one with a fabulous figure -- to step out in public sporting a belly-exposing top, a low-cut denim ultra-mini and "Pretty Woman"-style platform wedges. Right? Right!?! Anger: Why would you do this to us? Did you think that by slinking into dιclassι duds not even a pair of nubile 18-year-olds could pull off you somehow proved a point? You were so very, very wrong and you paid the price. Bargaining: It's not too late. All you gotta do is call Vogue and sweet talk Andre Leon Talley into once again giving you a makeover. He has oodles of classy couture and flat-iron-wielding minions who can tame the corkscrewiest of manes. Just pick up the phone. You can fix this. All you gotta do is dial. Please ... just dial ... Depression: We knew you wouldn't call. It's like you want us (and our corneas) to suffer. Go on, then, dress like someone half your age. See if we care. We've still got Christina Aguilera and her Marilyn Monroe obsession. Oh, you guys are feuding? We had no idea. Acceptance: You know, none of this is your fault. Maybe you're subconsciously clinging to your youth by expressing the tacky teen cheerleader within. Adulthood can be scary, even for chart-topping divas. We see that now, and we understand. It was a merciful end and we'll be sure to say a little prayer whenever we pass by Forever 21.

Blunder Pants: Forget Celine Dion's famous heart -- it's actually her pants that go on and on. The Canadian chanteuse is a snow-white fright in a prodigious pantsuit that makes her wispy frame look as outsized as her lungs. Not content to drape herself in so much fabric that even Christo would say, "Enough already," Celine sets off her super-sized slacks with the piece de resistance, a foot-grazing ivory scarf from Isadora Duncan's "Sunday Drive" collection.

I Can't Believe It's Not Better: Eva Longoria makes the scene at the Cannes Film Festival showing so much cleavage that she could double as a public service announcement for the importance of regular breast exams. Word is the publicity-partial "Desperate Housewives" starlet "accidentally" put this dress on backwards, hence the acres of bare skin from her navel on up. Too bad she didn't put it on inside-out, too, because then we would have been spared the visual assault caused by its unrelentingly busy pattern. Making matters worse is Eva's apparent concern about the availability of popcorn during the screening, which compelled her to take the extreme precaution of attaching dozens of buttery topping-soaked kernels onto her frightful frock for convenient snacking.

Moving Strictures: For someone so young, Jena Malone sure knows her Hollywood history. At the "Prairie Home Companion" premiere, the actress reimagines several classic films using nothing but a kicky hat and an OshKosh B'Gosh jumper. Let's see, there's "A Clockwork Orange" moved from futuristic England to an Oktoberfest in Germany. And "The Sound of Music" starring the fedora-loving Humphrey Bogart as the irascible American trying to woo Maria away from Captain Von Trapp. Jena also makes good metaphorical use of her black leotard and chicken pox-inspired tights, which combine the go-for-your-dreams message of "Flashdance" with the infectious cautionary tale that is "Dawn of the Dead."