Look into the eyes, not around the eyes...

Poor old Christina Hendricks. She should be on top of the world, with a starring role in one of American TV's most acclaimed shows and the prestigious title of 'Esquire's Sexiest Woman Alive', but she's still not happy. Apparently, the fashion industry doesn't know what to do with her 38DD-26-34 figure.

Since they're used to dressing stick-think lollipops with breasts that can support themselves, they're unsure of how to style someone who looks like she just stepped out of a giant clam shell. Christina's spectacular statistics don't fit into conventional gowns, meaning she has to look far and wide for an outfit that can reach, well, far and wide.

In the run-up to last week's Emmy Awards, Christina struggled to locate a dress that would cover her ample blessings, with most designers flat-out refusing to dress the Rubenesque red-head. Thankfully, she was able to pour herself into a lilac Zac Posen gown, that drew everyone's attention to the fact that she was trying to sneak Phil Collins and Larry David into the ceremony without tickets.

Although Mad Men went home with the award for 'Outstanding Drama Series', Christina missed out in her category, where she was nominated as 'Best Supporting Actress in a Drama Series' - cue endless jokes about 'best supported actress' being a clean sweep.

Hendricks' stylist, Lawren Sample, told a Scottish newspaper that her employer's curvaceous figure has designers worried, since it requires "a flattering cut, the correct amount of support, intricate boning, darts, seams and draping require a great deal of skill, time and expense." Failing that, it needs two wheelbarrows and enough fabric to re-skin the O2.

Only Zac Posen was up to the task, choosing to show off her shape, rather than cover it up. Unfortunately, some snippy style experts were quick to condemn Christina's golden globes, griping that once again they were hogging the limelight.

Posen remained undaunted, arguing "She's got a beautiful body, there's no reason to hide anything. Let's celebrate what she has." Irrespective of the fact that it would take an articulated lorry to 'hide what she has', at least he's got the right idea. There must be millions of men who regularly hold parties in honour of Christina's endowments. Someone pass me a party-popper.

Good morning, beautiful

It's always nice to get a reminder that those glamorous Hollywood stars are just like the rest of us. They still have to separate their rubbish for the recycling bins, their skin occasionally flares up, and they even get parking tickets when they leave their hazard lights on to nip to the shops.

Now, diehard star-spotters can add another perfunctory moment of ordinariness to their list of celebrity-doings: the walk of shame.

Don't pretend you don't know what it is - skulking home in the early morning, looking like you just lost a hair-pulling fight with Diana Vickers. Still wearing last night's outfit, your breath smells like an ashtray full of cocktail umbrellas, and your underwear is stuffed into your handbag/back pocket (delete as applicable).

Because no-one really goes out expecting to pull. It's just a nice surprise at the end of the evening - even better than finding an empty taxi rank or a KFC that's still open at 3am.

Unfortunately, it means that even though you might have spent the night before looking a million dollars, you come home resembling the loose change down the back of the sofa.

That's a pretty accurate description of how January Jones looked this week, when she was papped clambering out of a cab at 10.30am, following a glittering night out at the perplexingly-titled Oceana World Oceans Day Party. The disheveled mess arriving home the morning after looked nothing like her character Betty Draper, Don's troubled wife in Mad Men.

We all know that the hit AMC show is a triumph of art direction - in the last couple of years Betty has weathered a difficult pregnancy, the death of a parent and a nervous breakdown, without even smudging her lipstick. But the sight of the glacially impeccable Betty Draper, staggering up her lawn with a black bra poking out the back of her cocktail dress, shows us just how much work must go into the show. It's no wonder they clean up whenever the awards season rolls around.

Acceptable in the '80s (part 2)

I wrote a few months ago about Pete Hammond, one of the lead proponents of the Stock-Aitken-Waterman sound. He's been busy remixing songs for gay-friendly artists using his signature cowbells-and-handclaps style that perfectly recaptures the long-lost sound of the eighties. But this desire to revisit the era of the Rubiks Cube, microwave cookery and Roland Rat isn't limited to pop music - movies are also getting in on the act.

Perhaps the best example of this fun-filled flashbackery is the new movie The House of the Devil. Not only is this old-school horror set in the early 1980s, it's been filmed, lit, scored and edited to look as though it was made nearly thirty years ago. Creaky camera-work, scratchy typography, and a charity shop's worth of bad knitwear - they're all here. Even its poster looks more like a pricey piece of memorabilia from eBay, rather than a contemporary promotional piece.

Movie theatres are constantly clogged with horror movies trying to resurrect decades-old franchises with up-to-date reimaginings. But they usually miss the point that the original movies had a sense of their own time and space that gave them context and meaning. The recent Friday 13th remake is a case in point - trying to make a lumpen-faced psychopath in a hockey mask feel relevant and current. The producers were as doomed to failure as the film's hopeless characters who venture into the woodshed with just a torch and a cry of "I'll be right back."

The House of the Devil might turn out to be unwatchable crud, although early reports suggest it's something of a quirky gem. It's just a shame that, when Mad Men (deservedly) wins shedloads of awards for its astonishing attention to detail in recreating a key period in twentieth century popular culture, little films like this are destined to go unrecognised and unrewarded for similar dedication and vision.

See for yourself...