Miley x Paula BFF

Miley Cyrus in Ashish sweat-jeans. Photo from Dlisted.

This is the newly renovated Miley Cyrus. As most of you may not know, as much as I loathe both she and her dad’s music, I secretly love her recent punked-out style, even if it’s all a marketing ploy.

Miley’s transformation into Agyness Deyn, (British fashion model and Dr. Marten’s collaborator/muse.) started with her trip to the Dr. Marten’s Philadelphia store followed by a stop at the salon to chop, bleach and spike her hair. Even kids on the Dr. Marten’s site were cringing at her co-opting a look with very authentic roots.

Anyway, yesterday Jslow sent me the link to this Miley photo courtesy of Dlisted’s semi-regular segment “What in the hell kind of GD outfit is this”  which features a celebrity sporting something horrific followed by Michael K’s hilariously off-color commentary. Ladies, if you do not know of this treasured place for dirt, bookmark it immediately. It might just be the funniest, best written blog in the world.

The problem with this particular beat-down? I own those pants. I’ve written about those pants. In fact, I came thisclose to wearing them yesterday on my way to the salon to trim my own spiky semi-punked hair. I ended up tossing them off into a heap on the floor having no idea how to “style” them, opting instead for my more natural and way more flattering uniform of skinny jeans or cords, tank and statement shoes (yesterday’s were Giuseppe Zanotti metal-T-straps as seen here.)

Here is what Michael had to say about the pants I left behind:

“The oh-so-edgy and oh-so-urban Miley Cyrus wore the ugly bastard child of sweats and jeans to the MySpace relaunch party in Hollywood last night. You know, I’m all for interpants fucking, but the only reason for those ugly ass pants to exist is to show you that it’s possible to barf chunks out through your eye holes. Those pants don’t even make sense and bitch is totally disrespecting her legs. The right leg wants to lounge on a futon while Hot Fries crumbs fall on it during a Say Yes to the Dress marathon. The left leg wants to shake it to a Color Me Badd song at a junior high school dance in 1992. The right leg wants to do something totally different from the left leg. Bitch is confusing her legs and tearing them apart!

It’s like the left leg is possessed by the spirit of Katie Holmes circa 2008 and the right leg is possessed by the spirit of KFed circa now. That mess is not the look and even Jekyll and Hyde wouldn’t wear that shit. I hope her legs hate her for this.”

Interpants fucking? As Michael K would say, hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

I’m not sure what’s worse: Having my Ashish sweat/jeans ripped a new one by dlisted, or the fact that I own the same pants as a 20 year-old ex-Nickelodeon fixture who’s dad tortured us with “Achy Breaky Heart” and the mullet.

Come to think of it, what’s really worse is this: “Hey Miley, I know you’re working really hard to curate your new edgy “brand” and all, so I thought you’d like to know that I own those pants and I’m fifty-fucking-one years old!” Or as US Magazine might quip, maybe it’s time to “Trash your Stylist.” Perhaps it’s also time to trash mine.