Fergie makes it tough for me today, by showing up to the Capital Radio Jingle Ball on Saturday in London. Part of me wants to just submit and be like, “Fine. Fergie. You obviously know what you are doing here. This is how you operate. Fine. Fine,” but the other part of me (that last unflinching scrap of dignity) is like, “Please, Ms. Stacy, please… why do you hate good taste and justice and ice cream so much? Why do you have to play dirty?”

The leather-paneled leggings (as pants, natch) aren’t great, but pair it with a shiny blazer that looks like it came right off the rack at Wet Seal (and just as ill-fitting!) and you’ve got yourself a very bad idea.

What puts this into Disaster territory is, of course, obviously, without a doubt… that other thing. The thing on her head. The Thing Which Shall Not Be Named.

…Also, the coke nails are frightening.

(Photo via People)