Looking for Trouble
I'm strutting around town in an ultra long, black quilted parka. Yeah I thought I was pretty smart until I saw every other woman in NYC has one. Now when I see one I imagine we all had a one night stand with Dracula. When we sobered up and saw the bite marks we went running out of his loft wearing nothing but his comforter.
Hence forth and from now on and from here on in I proclaim that our long black quilty down coats be dubbed a "Vampire's Duvet."
As in, "Hey, I adore your Vampire's duvet!"
Sure, "Dracula's Duvet" has the alliteration, but is less workable for common street encounters.
Also today I was feeling very smart in my pink hat, until I saw the subway car I entered had two others seated with similar toppers. Suddenly I knew why it was called the F train.
One was a puffy, grumpy Hungarian-looking chick in a pink knit number and the other was a ragged looking suspected tranny wearing a fuzzy pink cloche that was almost identical to mine. The suspected tranny was attempting to eat a huge but frozen solid slushie. He/She entertained us by lifting the bright yellow iceburg a good ways out of its plastic cup and gnawing at it before it slipped back with a clunk. I knew this ride was not good PR for the pink hat wearer's of the world. The ride down to W4th was a real head trip.
Oh ha ha! I am so heelarious! Oh ho and ha ha! Ha! Hoo ha ho!
Ha! Ha? Huh?
Oh.
Well in any case, from now on us serious looking NY'ers wearing pink cloche hats will be referred to as "Inspector Gidget."
I'm taking one final stab at being unique by wearing braids. But if I see another overaged woman wearing adorable fey little plaits to disguise the fact that she too hasn't showered -- I'm going to lash out.
There's no doubt today will be totally hit or Swiss Miss.
PS Though my personal cutting edge is a bit dull, I can dish it as well as take it (as long as I'm dishing it, of course). Next week you can catch me once again contributing my outrageous barbs of hilarity in US Weekly magazine's Fashion Police.
