Strike a Pose, There's Nothing to It...

This weekend, Consort suddenly suggested I write about my feelings regarding the October issue of VOGUE.

"You enjoyed doing that last month," he noted. "And people seemed to like it."

What a brilliant idea. Let us all bask in my opinions. And golf claps to Consort who found a polite way to stop having to tune-out my musings on fat reduction using icy-cold wands by foisting me on you all.

October is not September. This is an inarguable statement if you're a fan of calendars but it's also a fashion fact. September VOGUE is a huge issue, offering mucho bang for the buck, because the editors long to draw in any and all suckers -- I mean, fans of the visual arts -- and also because September is the month magazines set their ad rates. It's the sweeps week of fashion publishing. More issues sold in September means GUESS will spends more money all next year for full-page advertisements of Claudia Schiffer designed to make us all feel terrible. I mean, the woman is forty-two years old and has three children; would it kill her to look at least twenty six?

But Claudia Schiffer's deal with Mephistopheles is not why we are here. We are here to decide how to dress ourselves and, as luck would have it, Anna Wintour and her minions have some ideas.

For example, you could buy pants which look like those exercise pants from the 80's which were supposed to take up to an inch off each thigh but, in fact, did nothing of the kind and just made your leg flesh resemble a frozen Thanksgiving turkey three hours into thawing.

Not that I ever bought those pants or anything.

And then you can wear these pants with shoes made of used Converse shoe laces, a bustier based on Tetris and gloves you borrowed from the second-best Michael Jackson impersonator in Branson, Missouri.

For those people who ever wondered what "Haute-Couture Amish" would look like, rest easy. VOGUE has you covered. 

Here's an exercise. Shut your eyes and think of James Brown in his heyday. Now, imagine his house. Now, imagine the guest bathroom in said house. Look closely at the wallpaper in that bathroom. Having done that, please scroll down and see what it would look like as a pantsuit.

Perhaps you don't want to resemble James Brown's guest bathroom's wallpaper. Fine. Not everyone is a visionary. Some people are more academically-minded and might wish to resemble a rhinovirus.

This coat is for yet another underserved fashion cohort: monkey-smugglers.
 From the look on this one's face, I can only assume the monkey tranquilizers have worn off.

Someone reading this just clucked their tongue in irritation and thought: This is all well and good, Quinn, but where is the SEMINAL look for this year? The look which will separate us from the ignorant hoi polloi who think clothing should be flattering and not cause babies to cry? In short, where is my Big Stupid Hat?

Why do you doubt me? More to the point, why do you doubt Anna Wintour? It's just hurtful, the way you think she's not going to offer us another Big Stupid Hat. In fact, just last week she had a meeting with the Big Stupid Hat Manufacturers Association (BSHMA) and told them firmly that you, the wearer of Big Stupid Hats,  needed to be fashionable and wearing a Big Stupid Hat while also enjoying the new hobby of the season: beekeeping.

Bet you feel foolish now.

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