OHMYGOSH! I am so offended. Did you see what she was wearing? I’m voting for McCain just so I don’t have to watch the Lillian Vernon fashions Michelle Obama pulls out of the back of her closet. When she walked up on stage after the debate, she looked like a page from last year’s Homeless Chic catalogue. Maybe she was celebrating her husband’s background, but seriously? A multi-colored Hawaiian print knee length Chinese style fitted-but-not-very-well dress that ZIPPERS all the way up the back!!! If you have to ask for a little help getting into your clothes, it better be for something small and black. Standing next to Cindy McCain, it’s like Angela Lansbury meets Scarlet Johansson. Cindy looked relaxed and professional in a tailored red suit with wide collars paired along a front placard. A bit of curl in her hair, lipstick that matched… I’m not talking about money; it’s a judgment thing. If you’re going to do casual, at least do elegant. This ain’t no church potluck. Complex patterns, with a complex dress, and a back zipper from butt to neck; I’m just thinking someone got clever with the workshop scraps. What about a simple suit, chunky beads if you’re young enough (and Michelle is), maybe go crazy and do piping in black and black boots—now, that’s young, and cute, but it doesn’t say “Rummage Sale.”
Speaking of sales, occasionally I humble myself by walking through the Nordstrom outlet. Not only do they cut the cost of a cotton shirt to a reasonable $400, but they also sell socks. For $35/pair, I’m wearing them on my ears so everyone can see them. Some of the clothes, I’m wondering who buys them? From what I’ve seen, it’s mostly old ladies with several karats on their fingers and standing weekly appointments at the hairdressers. Do they take home the (not kidding) $1,100 lingerie? For that money, there better be a plastic surgeon included. And have you seen the new line of nylons? Spanx. I’m not buying them on principle. And a few of the outfits, I couldn’t figure out how to even put them on. There were several straps going all over with loops and hooks. I’d need directions. And knowing me, I’d get in a car wreck and they’d have to cut me out of the straight jacket I’d put on thinking I’m all cool and hip.
“Poor woman,” the EMT would say. “Must have escaped from the mental ward.”
Which is where I’d deserve to go if I ever showed up at a public function looking like I’d recycled my prom dress.