It’s fashion week in New York City, and you know what that means, dahlinks: the fab and flab-free are more concentrated than ever, converging on the tent shows in Bryant Park. Wipe that bead of sweat from your Botoxed brow (what’s it doing there anyway?), and don’t fret for even a minute that the freezing cold temperatures have any influence on their stylish dress! Yesterday, I passed by the tents on a public bus (I know, the shame!) just as one of the shows let out. Of course, I most cruelly chucked my dowdy little head off as I watched many stocking-clad knees on toothpick legs knock together between the tops of their stiletto leather knee-high boots and the micro minis that barely covered their presumably hairless cooties.
Sure, I looked like a loser in my turtleneck acrylic sweater, wool sweater (yes, I wore two sweaters), and jeans, under which I wore knit tights, wool socks, and boots. Even better? I had a nice downy layer of leg hair to trap in incremental amounts of body heat. Every bit counts in this type of weather.
Who looks like the idiot now, style mavens? I was warm. Or at least as warm as I could be in the frigid wind. Yes, it felt good to be bundled up and dorky. And that is how I shall be today as I tool up north to see Alex and her family for a short visit. Husband is off to Europe, thus does not need Fred the Red (our PT Cruiser) to drive to work, so I thought it would be a great time to get my patootie up there. I’m excited.
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I wonder what it would be like to be so thin that you could smooth out wrinkles anywhere on your body with a botox injection..
ReplyDeleteI'm with you, I rather be warm than fashionable. Unless that Botox can do the same as the blubber on whales and walruses - an insulation,
ReplyDeleteI've never been good at "fashionable". All I can think when I see women like that is, "Good Lord, someone get that girla cheeseburger, fast."
ReplyDeleteLuckily I married a man who was all to happy with the fact that he has been forever banned from purchasing me expensive jewlery and knowing he will never have to wait longer than fifteen minutes for me to be ready to go anywhere.
Comfortable is far preferrable to "cute". "Cute" is for five year olds.