I never should have taken Manolo, my beloved Pom, to see “Paranormal Activity.” Convinced the Martini manse was haunted, he set up a night-vision camera to catch ghosts in the act.

“Don’t you hear the eerie wailing late at night?” he asked.

I do - it’s my butler Peevish trying to fit into his old Capris.

But once I saw Manolo’s footage, I was shaken. There, in the still darkness, a small pair of orbs could be seen floating out of my closet and down the hall.

“Are those . . . shoulder pads?” I asked, squinting at the tape.

Morsels, I’m being haunted by the spirits of bad fashion trends. The pads were bad enough, but when a phantom pair of ripped jeans appeared near the stairs, I knew I had to take action.

The problem is - do I call a priest or a stylist?

Speaking of horrifying visions, I saw plenty during this week’s red-carpet stakeout.

Let me call this Ghostbuster and I’ll file my report:

HEAD GAMES: Let’s see - if a close encounter of the third kind is contact, and the fourth kind is abduction, then the fifth kind must be getting a makeover from an alien. Lady Gaga models her extraterrestrial souvenir.

TISSUE ISSUES: Experts say you should cough into your elbow to avoid spreading flu germs, but Leighton Meester goes one better. She wears a hanky-topped frock, so a safe sneeze is in easy reach.