Sunday, February 24, 2013

On the Cover of a Magazine

For months, the VOGUE magazines were published, I would page through them and I would grieve. Sure, there were stupid handbags, unappealing hairstyles and the occasional person described as something like an "Art Consultant" standing in her apartment wearing a Balenciage trenchcoat and holding a rasher of bacon, but VOGUE wasn't giving me the stupid the way it has in the past. Had Anna Wintour grown tired of mixing the surreal, the inexplicable, the unnattractive and the pink mascara? Were we fated to never stare at VOGUE as a community again?

And then the Beyoncé issue arrived, and I understood what I had feared was a fading vigor was merely Anna replenishing her insane vision. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, VOGUE roars back, stronger and less interested in being attractive than ever.

I know what your first question is: Quinn, are we still wearing big stupid hats? Well, sure. A Big Stupid Hat is a classic, like a navy blue blazer or tattooing your earlobes. But the more fashion-forward are wearing their Big Stupid Hats with uncovered lampshades:

The haunted look is extra.

Speaking of a haunted look, try not to stare at this model directly, as I believe her glance kills within 72 hours.

So, besides a skirt which can double as a light fixture,

what else is new?
I think we're all excited to learn what is the hottest hairstyle for spring and summer: The Lady Combover.

On an unrelated note, I think Miuccia Prada won't rest until she's convinced someone somewhere to spend a thousand dollars for a pair of shoes which look like sandals with socks. This is the third seaon she has shown this. It's possible she's trying to win a bet.

If you're feeling more follicularly whimsical, you can always go with the Stooge:

Or, the Starter Stooge:

The rule is simple; if you don't resemble a middle-aged man from the middle of the last century, you're so willfully weird looking that we might have to come after you with pitchforks and torches.

There's a motif this month, and it's "Women who cannot remember to dress from the waist up and have just learned this."

"I knew I felt breezier than usual!"

"Sweetheart, did you do the checklist like we talked about before we left the house?"

"Oh crap, let the red gloves, the sword and the tiger keep them from noticing I forgot to put on a shirt and had to cut off half of a mortuary curtain."

It's nice to see that even when everyone else is racing forward at breakneck speed in the fashion world, Versace is still designing for an underserved demographic; the third wives of Russian oligarchs.

Just before writing a cringingly large check to VOGUE for a full-page ad buy, an ad executive thought, "Overexposed film, unkempt dirty hair, contour blushing from the 80s, a wrinkled dress and the shoes (the product we're trying to sell) lost in the rocks. Someone's getting a bonus!"

Ad executive, we here at VOGUE approve of self-delusion (See: Muiccia and her love affair with socks and sandals), but we are sorry to say that you did unattractive in the wrong way. If you look outside your window, you will see the editors with torches racing up Madison Avenue.

This woman looks magnificent in this dress.

She is the only person on the planet who does. Everyone else will resemble a toilet brush. And what's with the scorching look from tuxedo guy? That isn't love or passion, that's "My eyes also work as lasers." You know who he should marry?

It's nice to think of them sharing creepy expressions for the centuries to come.

Last year at a fur farm, a mink gazed upwards and prayed "Please let me be killed, skinned, dyed bright blue, turned into Cookie Monster's shower shoes and then end up at Loehman's for 90% off, because not a single sober person would willingly wear these."

You're welcome, little mink.

Anyone want to guess what the woman below is selling?



That's right...


It's nice that VOGUE provides someone for the Russian oligarch's third wives to declare "A little tacky."

But what if you have to go to the Golden Globes days after having ACL surgery? Tom Ford has you covered.

But, unsnarkily, I would unblinkingly sell my soul to anyone who could get my hair to do that.

"You rang?"

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Mother Cannot Guide You Now You're On Your Own

Okay, reader-participation time:

Was there one specific moment when you realized "I'm not a kid any more?" Was there a moment when you knew you were irrevocably an adult? Were they the same moment?

When You are Stealing That Extra Bow

Daughter asked, "May I have some honey for my cereal, please?"

I asked carefully, "Some what?"

She sighed. She knew what the price was.

She then said "Honey..." exactly like Mr. Upson in the Roz Russell version of 'Auntie Mame."

I handed her the bear, because I am a very cheap but a very specific date.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Then You Go Downtown

I've been an unapologetic fan of "Downton Abbey," but after the last two seasons, I've come to the conclusion that certain shows are like certain men I dated when I was young; I'll put up with all sorts of stupidity as long as I'm looking at something pretty.

Cannot WAIT for Season 4.

Monday, February 11, 2013

Goin' To the Chapel

(Shots of a glamorous house in the Hollywood Hills: the hot tub, the million-dollar view, the large neon abstract art piece in the living room.)

VOICE-OVER: Twelve contestants, sharing a house, but only one of them can get the job. It’s about to get real up in here...

(Shot of marble floor. A pair of red shoes walk into frame.)

V.O: Infallibly real.


V.O: Coming to the CW in March.

Saturday, February 02, 2013

Only Whatever You Put in Its Head

While chatting with some parents of Daughter's friends, we came to the conclusion that we have, at most, another five years of active parenting ahead of us. If you define "Active" as "They're still listening," maybe some of us have already entered the inactive file. But the fact remains, the part where our children are at least obliged to pretend to listen is winding down and many of us feel as if parenting is the Encyclopedia Brittanica and we've barely walked them through the "Aardvark-Abacus" section. I'm not even talking the  Perhaps it's best to wait until you're old enough to rent a car before you have a child kind of advice; I'm going to assume that most children I know are aware of how their parents feel about the large issues, even if they never end up following that advice. I'm talking the extraneous bits of hard-won information people accrue and would love to see someone they care about learn without having to take the hard way to get it.

So, readers, here's where you come in. I'm going to write down the two gobbets of wisdom I wish I could pass on to teenagers. If there's something you wish the younger version of you had known, bring it in.

1. Never, never once, tell your dear friend what you think of her ex. Even if she broke up with him and promptly rented a billboard enumerating his failures, even if you've been biting your tongue for years about what an epic ass he is, not even if his name is shorthand in three counties for "Has herpes," you say nothing. Hug your friend, take her out for carbs, look sympathetic and never have whatever number drink it is for you that loosens your tongue and makes you tell her about the day he hit on your while she was in the ICU. Because the instant, THE INSTANT, you breathe in and say "Well, since we're talking about Todd..." you are assuring they will get back together and she will never speak to you again.

If you're looking to get rid of her for some reason, however, have the evening of your life.

2. If an extended story-warranty on an appliance sounds like a good idea, set the money on fire instead. At least you'll get some warmth.

Now, you?