Brandy, we love you. And not just because you've spontaneously grown a tiny set of human limbs out of your neck, and not just because you faked your wedding and got away with it, and not just because you shot a video with Chris Brown and survived.
No, we love you because you have your first new album out in four years, and you're dressing like it's no big thing. You will not squeeze yourself into size negative-three Balenciagas like Kristen Stewart did for her On the Road promos. You're no Kesha, pretending to be a grown-up in London when all you want to do is tear off your clothes and slather yourself in tiger hormones and gold dust.
Nope. You're pimping your new effort, Two Eleven, in cargo prints, sweaters with sequined lips on ‘em, striped Motel Jordan jeans and Giambattista Valli boots.
We're feeling comfier just looking at you.