Think Pink! If You Want That Quelque Chose

A week or so ago, I noted on Twitter that at over 900 pages, the September issue of VOGUE is not only a bible of fashion, beauty, culture and style, it would make a handy murder weapon. Possibly to keep me off the subject of murder, at least in public, Amy Fee Garner Tweeted:

finished all 916 pages of Sept Vogue and looking to @quinncy for the takeaway-- what are we supposed to do with all of this information?



And I thought, oh yes. This, I shall do.

First thoughts:

1. Nail polish is bright and meant to be changed constantly.

2. So is hair color. In fact, as your mother might have coordinated her bag and her shoes, your nails and hair should be the same eye-defying color. I mean, it doesn't have to be, but let's be honest, you're not getting any younger or more interesting.

3. Food is best fresh, local, prepared by someone heavily tattooed who is also a DJ. Also, food is best not eaten. PARADE readers eat food; VOGUE readers talk about food.

4. Surprisingly, the most interesting people VOGUE editors can think to write about are other VOGUE contributors, people who are young, mind-bendingly rich, pleasingly symmetrical, have puzzling hobbies like "Salt-shaker restoration" or "Falcon Reiki Consultant" and honeymoon on islands which didn't exist until last week.

And then there are the trends. This year, it would seem, grown women are to wear knee-high socks in public, with everything. Women who are old enough to rent cars and pay mortgages are being encouraged to sport a look whose most defining characteristics are 1) It makes your legs look shorter and 2) It reminds people of British post-war schoolboys and elderly women, two groups who have rarely contributed to the general aesthetic good. Go to it, missy! Don't let judgement stand in your way!

 And above those knee-highs, what to wear? Starched arms, of course! 

Ideally, the effect should be modern, casual, and remind one of that time you were running out the door and realized you needed to shave your armpits because the shirt exposed them but you had no time and you didn't want to get your shirt wet, so you just shaved them without soap and spent the next four hours apologizing to your affronted epidermis.

If you aren't willing to commit to the look fully, there's always a single starched arm.

But, honestly, you bought sixteen pounds of VOGUE; show a little courage. 

Slit skirts are a big thing for fall.

Yawn, I say. YAWN. If you've been to the rodeo we call fashion long enough to remember Fat Karl Lagerfeld, you've seen enough upper-thighs to be able to skip the gynecological rotation in your medical residency. Show me a body part I haven't seen before. Give me a tunic top with a daring glimpse of spleen. 

"But, Quinn," you are asking me in confusion, "I've got my knee-highs, my starched arms, and my Doric column for thigh-flashing, but what is the look for night?"

The look...is toilet-paper cozy.

Please remember that the last actual women to be seen in these outfits in public, Victorian women, were considered the standards of beauty, refinement and feminine grace. Please also remember more than a few died each year because their skirts got too close to the fireplace and arrange your placement in the living room accordingly.

Your glasses will come from the Geordi LaForge collection and will boldly go where no sunglasses have gone before; your jawline:

There are several benefits to these glasses: You can sleep through meetings; you can temporarily blind someone you don't like, and your sunblock bill will plummet. Metal neck-brace, spiky nose-guard and possibly-hypnotized kidnappee aren't obligatory but would certainly help the look.

But, in the end, what one fashion element will scream "FALL 2012!!!!" possibly over and over again? What look are we who know such things all going to be wearing this year, as we softly mock those poor fools with their limp arms and covered knees? Readers, wait no longer...

WE SHALL ALL BE WEARING BIG, STUPID HATS.

Yes, readers, whether you're taking the Orient Express to Willy Wonka's summer estate on Mars, having a contemplative pose with your twin llamas, taking the subway with the Ruritanian National Guard or merely sitting around in the nude with Liberace's bidet on your head, you're NO ONE this year without a Big Stupid Hat. 

Don't say you weren't warned.

And remember if you do plan to use VOGUE as a murder weapon, take out the perfume inserts ahead of time. I hear whispers they're going to be what we wear as shoes for Resort, 2013.