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Cult Couture

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Ah, Grasshopper. When the eastern swallow flies backward singing “I Get a Kick Out of You,” then and only then should LAURENCE FISHBURNE (at the July premiere of Apocalypse Now Redux in Manhattan) wear cowboy boots with a spotted cheongsam.

Is there an ashram missing its dry cleaning? A cardiac care unit short one hospital gown? If she were smart, The Weakest Link host ANNE ROBINSON would have been fleeing to buy a better outfit during a June shopping trip in Beverly Hills. Goodbye.

This new Hollywood Square needs to shake her old Sister Act habit. The billowing fabric threatening to devour WHOOPI GOLDBERG (at a screening of The Exorcist in LA, last fall) is “either a dress or a duvet cover,” figures PEOPLE’S Steven Cojocaru.

At March’s Screen Actors Guild Awards in LA., nominee ELLEN BURSTYN appeared to be channeling Dolceria and Gabbanicus, the ancient Roman gods of colorful caftans and 10-gallon jewelry.

Lo, PATRICIA ARQUETTE: Thou shalt cast out color and take a vow of dullness before running errands in Malibu in “July. And the kahuna would like to see a smile, girlfriend.

Brainwashed by a coven of croquet players, MATTHEW MO-DINE carried his offering (a sack of organic potatoes, or perhaps a giant green burrito?) through Manhattan’s SoHo in June.