Because no matter how many television channels they devote to trying to convince me I should be impressed with the Westminster-like preening that goes into squeezing celebutantes into garish rags designed by Italian poofters so they can prance like good little poodles down the red carpet, I'm still going to find Rachel McAdams' look in The Family Stone -- mussy hair, minimal make-up, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a Dinosaur Jr. t-shirt -- a gazillion times sexier than any pre-fab "diva" could ever be.
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