Look, I’ve looked through it over and over again, to choose someone else, anyone else, for such a dubious distinction. But last night, it kept coming back to this. To Jane Lynch. Beloved Jane Lynch. Because even though we adore her, even though she’s a badass bitch who’s finally hit her stride, this… this is unacceptable.

I don’t even know how it got made.

No, but HOW does it get made?

How do you sit at your drawing board, as a designer, and puke out this mess? There’s really no excuse for it. Unless your target market is some hick ass prom where half the teens get knocked up by their brother-cousins at 18 after a night they can’t remember in the back of the truck.

There is not one part of this sh-t that’s salvageable. Not the swimsuit bust line, not the weird pleating at the waist, not the tacky tier around her thighs, not the colour, not the material, I have tried all night and all morning to say ONE good thing about Jane Lynch in this disaster and all I can come up with is… her makeup doesn’t suck. Except of course it’s framed by Florence Henderson’s hairstyle. Now that may or may not be a constraint of the character she plays on her show – fair enough I suppose – but I don’t see why that means they have to take a curling iron to her fringe and feather it out like menopause automatically condemns you to looking like you hate style.

She’s Jane Lynch.

She’s a force to be reckoned with.

I don’t buy, I refuse to buy, that there were no other options.

Photos from Wenn.com and Jason Merritt/Gettyimages.com