April 06, 2006
Making Baby Jesus Cry
[Today's post is by guest-blogger, Nicholle. The photo was taken on Christmas morning, 2005. Nicholle has been busy, so cut her a little slack, will ya? I will be back tomorrow with TWO "America's Next Top Model" reviews.]
Norman Rockwell would have painted a St. Bernard where she was standing. As suggested to the artist easily by the drooping piles of ruddy hair.
This is Christmas morning, people. De rigeur: comfy robes for the residents, footie jammies for the little ones, cable knit sweaters and jeans for the guests. Not this. Never this.
To start at the bottom or the top? The top, to emphasize the descent into fashion hell.
Thirty-three year old women must have all purchase attempts of butterfly clips thwarted at the Walgreens counter. No longer must they be allowed to disguise them in piles of sanitary products and butterfingers!
Long-sleeve Hello Kitty t-shirt with ruffled shoulders in sanitarium pink. Ruffled shoulders = nineteen eighty-two. There. I spelled it out for ya. Now pink generally rocks, as do wee and/or ironic representations of Miss Kitty.
Case in point: Hello Kitty graphic no more than three inches high wearing a black bow, with a skull in the center and a plaid skirt, can say, “I know mute Japanese cats can be a little fifth grade, but I am cognizant and wear it with a little edge.” And NOT to celebrate the birth of Christ. Unless you are THAT family member, and then we hope you come up with something so bleeding inappropriate that you make your mother cry at the thought of a family photo.
Also –- pink on the ginger-coiffed? Only if you’re Strawberry Shortcake, and even she toned it down. Which brings us to the pants.
Now, since the subject wasn’t really cooperating, the photo is missing the fab details of calligraphy graffiti randomly splashed about the tush. It really puts the lash in splash. As in forty lashes. But you can make out the embroidery. So kitschy. So ethnic. So visually competitive with Sanrio.
The extra fabric bunching about the ankles would have been so helpful to the fabric at the hips -– fabric that never thought, in its early days on the loom, that it would be required to withstand forces equivalent to a tsunami on its little, cotton arms. It’s okay to buy the right size! C’mon, they've invented vanity sizing!
Oh wait, that’s right –- you assembled this ensemble in the dark, mirrorless room in the basement behind the furnace, where you held your breath against the black mold, and they did fit down there.
The gift of Ugg slippers pushed it to the edge, man. Or brought it all together. Whichever.