Archive for May 2013
I thought that it would be difficult to decide what to wear for Wear a Gown to Work Day. However, my decision was practically made for me when I saw Irina Kravchenko walking the Giles F/W 2013 runway with this surly expression on her face. If Irina had been working tirelessly as an ambassadrix of glamorousness only to see her efforts neglected by the world at large, this is exactly how I would expect her to look.
Anyway, I’m not going to let it get me down. I only have myself to blame because my extraordinary beauty is intimidating rather than inspiring, and my uncanny sense of style is terrorizing when it should be motivating. As Zob is my witness, I promise to be less-gorgeous in the future so that I can be a little more accessible to you, my unsightly, gownless readers.
I should just be glad that I realized that the problem is with me and not with you . . .
Happy birthday, Phil Keoghan. You’re no Ben Mulroney, and that’s something we can all be thankful for . . .
Happy birthday, Colm Meaney. Someone needs to remake “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine” and cast the Kardashians as the Cardassians. Could you make a few calls?
So, my astrologer tells me that today transiting Jupiter conjuncts my natal Jupiter. I guess that only happens once every twelve years and it’s supposed to signal a time of buoyant optimism and good fortune. Unfortunately, I’m feeling neither buoyant nor optimistic because the fifth-annual Wear a Gown to Work Day is only two days away and no one really seems to care. It’s as if the universe is taunting me with the promise of something fabulous, and yet the only fabulous thing that’s happened to me lately was when I bought a Mars Bar from a vending machine yesterday and two bars fell out. True story!
Anyway, I’m not going to be discouraged. I’m a glamour pioneer driving my chuckwagon of incomprehensible gorgeousness into the wild west of fashion. One day people will sing songs about my courageous campaign to introduce gown-wearing to the unwashed masses. They’ll name national parks after me and put my photo on stamps. They’ll finally say “She is as visionary as she is humble,” to which I’ll respond, “Tell me something I don’t know!”
Until then, however, I’ll just have to keep chuckwagoning forward into virgin territory where no fashionista has gone before while the rest of you watch from afar, like a distant herd chewing your collective cud. See you on the other side!
Happy birthday, Lisa Whelchel. I was rooting for you on “Survivor.” Of course, if you were sitting next to Tootie at the final tribal council, things would have been different . . .
Happy birthday, Rob Ford. Don’t take this the wrong way, but Toronto deserves you . . .