10.20.2004
Something to Mock
I love to mock. Especially when things are so easily deserving of my derision. Let's take for example the recent trend of mukluk-like footwear for women. Why any right-minded woman would want to resemble a goat or an Eskimo from the knees down is beyond me, but what's even more demented is that a legion of "designers" out there deemed Goat-Like Legs "haute" this season.
While in NYC, I saw many disturbing versions of this trend, from calf-hair-accented cowboy boots to full on 'Mo Booties, completely covered in some sick hybrid of faux fur and shag carpeting. It was one thing to see chicks running around in Uggs (those are for SKI AREAS ONLY), but mukluks? Not so much.
And why are men not jumping on the mukluk bandwagon? Why? Because the footwear designers are woman-hating gay dudes who try to think of ways to get straight men to join their Bridge teams. And I have to say, they may be getting a boatload of new members this season, thanks to the goat legs.
But ultimately, it's the gals who are responsible for perpetuating a trend. We've suffered through Roman sandals, plastic footwear, chunky heels, lug soles, ankle boots, moccasins...but please, please, remember this: even goats aren't happy looking like goats. A goat's life sucks. Mainly because a goat can't wear cute footwear. Do you see where I'm going with this???
In other news, I finally had a night to myself last night. First one since last Tuesday. There's something so blissful about alone-time, but also something pathetic as well. I watched The Fog of War (amazing, tremendous, moving, etc etc etc) and was airing out my brain afterward when the phone rang. Ring ring! It was Just Joe. He is just so perky and I'm so...not. High-energy is one thing, but that kid burns so many calories just being Just Joe that he has to shovel down burritos and ice-cream bars just to keep from disappearing.
If only I could be that lucky.
Some people are born under a star, methinks. Like they turn out beautiful but modest, or silly rich and generous, or served a jet-set lifestyle on a silver platter but they still appreciate the mundane things that make being human beautiful and tolerable. Things like dive bars, pen pals and cotton socks.
My friend D in NYC is a good example of that. (I promised him that I wouldn't blog about him, but this cannot be contained.) He is job-blessed, and gets invites from chichi magazine editors to join them for free lunches and free concerts and cocktail hours in ridiculously hard-to-get-into restaurants and clubs. Bastard! I honestly have no idea why we're such good friends. He met me when I was a poor editrix (oh wait, I still am), calling him up to get a photo of some objet he was selling, and almost four years later we're still in obscenely intimate daily contact.
He's one of my Apex Best Friends, and he doesn't brag or boast, but just in contrast I feel like a hick sometimes, I swear.
While in NYC, I saw many disturbing versions of this trend, from calf-hair-accented cowboy boots to full on 'Mo Booties, completely covered in some sick hybrid of faux fur and shag carpeting. It was one thing to see chicks running around in Uggs (those are for SKI AREAS ONLY), but mukluks? Not so much.
And why are men not jumping on the mukluk bandwagon? Why? Because the footwear designers are woman-hating gay dudes who try to think of ways to get straight men to join their Bridge teams. And I have to say, they may be getting a boatload of new members this season, thanks to the goat legs.
But ultimately, it's the gals who are responsible for perpetuating a trend. We've suffered through Roman sandals, plastic footwear, chunky heels, lug soles, ankle boots, moccasins...but please, please, remember this: even goats aren't happy looking like goats. A goat's life sucks. Mainly because a goat can't wear cute footwear. Do you see where I'm going with this???
In other news, I finally had a night to myself last night. First one since last Tuesday. There's something so blissful about alone-time, but also something pathetic as well. I watched The Fog of War (amazing, tremendous, moving, etc etc etc) and was airing out my brain afterward when the phone rang. Ring ring! It was Just Joe. He is just so perky and I'm so...not. High-energy is one thing, but that kid burns so many calories just being Just Joe that he has to shovel down burritos and ice-cream bars just to keep from disappearing.
If only I could be that lucky.
Some people are born under a star, methinks. Like they turn out beautiful but modest, or silly rich and generous, or served a jet-set lifestyle on a silver platter but they still appreciate the mundane things that make being human beautiful and tolerable. Things like dive bars, pen pals and cotton socks.
My friend D in NYC is a good example of that. (I promised him that I wouldn't blog about him, but this cannot be contained.) He is job-blessed, and gets invites from chichi magazine editors to join them for free lunches and free concerts and cocktail hours in ridiculously hard-to-get-into restaurants and clubs. Bastard! I honestly have no idea why we're such good friends. He met me when I was a poor editrix (oh wait, I still am), calling him up to get a photo of some objet he was selling, and almost four years later we're still in obscenely intimate daily contact.
He's one of my Apex Best Friends, and he doesn't brag or boast, but just in contrast I feel like a hick sometimes, I swear.
