Cheryl Cole. You're like the northern English Kylie Minogue. I deduce that from your many costume changes during a performance and your bad luck with men.
Usually, you're very easy on the eye. But today, you've skewered mine. Right through the iris, back into the ...sorry, gross. I forgot why we're here.
Camouflage khaki split-sided harem pants with glittery and a sequiny strappy bodysuit are why we're here. Owww Cheryl! Owww times a million. The way the tricked-up slashed-away body suit looks like a high-rise G-string cum chastity belt, the combination of war and stripper aesthetic and the abundance of shiney sparkly accents. That's why we're here.
Apart from hurting the eyeball, it's also fairly irresponsible to get up in front of thousands of screaming teens and queens in this kind of malarky. Why? Because next season, all the UK chain stores are going to peddle whatever Cheryl wears and before you know it, some precocious twelve year-old will be pushing in line at the bus stop wearing just those harem army pants. It's also irresponsible because while the twelve year-old might look terrifying in them, just you wait until their mums get their own version. Imagine what the thigh-high slit will reveal. Oh the horror. The horror.