Ladies and gees, is it just me, or has Amal just done the impossible?? She’s actually, legitimately, without-needing-to-get-preggers-to-trap-him-in tied down the golden unicorn of the Hollywood Bach Scene and in the same breath dethroned Kate Middleton as the most envied first fashion lady in the whole wide entire world. GO HOME AMAL, YOU ARE DONE, EVERYTHING IS WON, WE SHOULD ALL GIVE UP ON LIFE VERY RIGHT NOW.
I can’t believe I’m about to utter the next sentence. My Mum will disown me. Because I don’t even care that Amal has brand new Mrs Clooney status. Couldn’t even give a rats. (and normally I give all the rats because I don’t really care for rats at all.) She may as well be walking down the Prix De Riveria De Gala Plazzio (oh come on folks. ‘Sif you’ve never heard of that place. It’s totes where all the a-list holiday, please try to keep up…) next to Bozo the Clown because no-one’s looking at the man bag next to her. We’re all drooling over that outfit and mentally calculating what foods we could actually eat while wearing it. (Seven. The answer is seven. They’re all white, but luckily vanilla gelato from Messina is also white, so hooray for small victories, amiright??)
So if you can survive on rice and vanilla Messina and chardonnay, and you’re brave enough to take on Amal at her very own fash game, (oh, not me, folks. I know when I’m outta my depth and you’d better believe I’ll keep my cute butt outta the deep end of the pool. Consider my allegiance sworn, Mrs Clooney) here’s the inside track. George Clooney optional.