Paris Hilton is no stranger to taking risks when it comes to fashion, and this Tuesday night, all eyes were on her as she walked the red carpet at the Fashion Trust U.S. Awards. While many fans gushed over her fabulous cutout outfit, others were more skeptical about her overall look.
The 43-year-old socialite made waves at the second annual Fashion Trust U.S. Awards, sporting a striking black blazer dress with numerous intricate cutouts.
Hilton dazzled in her avant-garde Mugler ensemble, characterized by sharp shoulders, a cinched waist, and a structured skirt that elegantly draped over a black underlay, revealing glimpses of skin.
The star swept her blonde locks into a sleek bun with a side-swept bang framing her face, opting for understated jewelry—a pair of diamond studs and her eye-catching engagement ring from husband Carter Ruem.
Fans on social media showered Paris with compliments for her outfit selection and her chic all-black ensemble, affectionately referring to her as «Queen». One commenter wrote, ’’I like the edgy look on you,’’ while another exclaimed, ’’I have no words! Ok, I have three: hot, strong, and smart!’’
But as always, opinions varied, and not everyone was fully a fan of Hilton’s appearance. One person noted that her look is making her appear ’’so manly’’, and wondered ’’what happened to her??’’
While another online user speculated that the star appeared uncomfortable, remarking, ’’I don’t think Paris is feeling her outfit.’’
A third wrote, ’’You’d think with age and two children that she’d have outgrown dressing like this.’’
We’ll add our voice to those praising Paris Hilton’s stunning appearance, as she radiates on the red carpet.
Dakota Johnson is another celebrity who recently sparked debate online due to her bold outfit choice. Check out her dress here and share your thoughts with us.
I Came Home from Vacation to Find a Huge Hole Dug in My Backyard – I Wanted to Call the Cops until I Saw What Was at the Bottom
When I cut short our vacation due to Karen falling ill, the last thing I expected was to find a massive hole in our backyard upon returning home. Initially alarmed, I hesitated when I spotted a shovel inside, leading me into an unexpected adventure involving buried treasure, newfound friendship, and lessons in life’s true values.
Karen and I rushed back from the beach early after she fell ill. Exhausted but wary, I decided to check the house’s perimeter before settling in. That’s when I stumbled upon the gaping pit in our lawn.
“What’s this?” I muttered, approaching cautiously.
At the bottom, amid scattered debris, lay a shovel. My first instinct was to call the police, but then I considered the possibility that the digger might return, knowing we were supposed to be away.
Turning to Karen, who looked unwell, I suggested keeping the car hidden in the garage to maintain the appearance of absence.
As night descended, I kept vigil by a window, watching and waiting. Just as I was about to give up, I spotted a shadow vaulting over our fence.
Heart pounding, I ventured out with my phone ready to call the authorities. Approaching the pit, I heard the clink of metal on earth.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, shining my phone’s light into the hole. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The figure looked up, squinting. My jaw dropped—it was George, the previous owner of our house.
“Frank?” he stammered, equally surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” I retorted. “What are you doing in my yard in the middle of the night?”
George climbed out, looking sheepish. “I can explain. Just… please don’t involve the police.”
Arms folded, I demanded an explanation.
“My grandfather owned this place,” George began, “and I recently discovered he hid something valuable here. I thought I’d dig it up while you were away.”
“You broke into my yard to hunt for treasure?” I couldn’t believe it.
“I know how it sounds,” George pleaded, “but it’s true. Help me dig, and we’ll split whatever we find.”
Despite my better judgment, I agreed. Over hours of digging, we shared stories, George revealing his hardships—a lost job and his wife’s illness. His hope for this treasure to change their lives touched me.
As dawn approached, our optimism dwindled with each shovel of dirt revealing nothing but rocks and roots.
“I was so sure…” George’s disappointment was palpable.
Offering a ride home, we filled the pit and drove to his house, where his wife, Margaret, greeted us anxiously.
“George! Where have you been?” Margaret exclaimed, eyeing me curiously.
Explaining the situation, George’s dream of buried treasure was deflated by Margaret’s reality check.
“My grandfather’s tales were just that—stories,” she gently reminded him.
Apologizing, George and Margaret offered to repair our yard. I declined, suggesting they join us for dinner instead.
Driving home, I shared the night’s escapade with Karen, who teased me about my unusual night with a stranger. Reflecting on our conversation, I proposed inviting George and Margaret for dinner—an unexpected outcome from a night of digging for imaginary treasure.
As I assessed the yard in daylight, I realized life’s treasures aren’t always what we seek but the connections we forge along the way.
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