Hot Trend Alert

Butcher's Apron

Butcher’s Apron

Over the past couple of days of watching the Milan shows, I’ve noticed a trend emerging. I’ve seen about half-a-dozen white overalls/apron-style garments masquerading as high fashion. As practical as I am, I can’t help but thinking that it would be prudent to purchase a butcher’s apron instead of investing in this sure-to-be-short-lived trend. Pair it with some sassy culottes and take it out for a night on the town.

Remember, I’m always here when you need fashion advice . . .


Time for a midlife crisis . . .



I was just looking at the calendar and realized that I’ll be fifty-years-old in six months. I already take decent care of myself, but I suppose I should do more before everything falls apart (like it has for the rest of you). Anyway, I was going to yoga quite often last year, but then I tripped over a stump in my garden, tearing a hamstring muscle. It didn’t stop me from working out or doing yoga on my own, but it did keep me from going to classes because I felt as if I wasn’t performing. I know that’s not what you’re supposed to be thinking about in yoga classes, but that’s how I think. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful: hate me because I’m vain.

My hamstring is almost fully-recovered, so I’m going to go to a drop-in yoga class this afternoon. I need to something else to fixate on besides clothes. I can’t stop shopping lately. After telling myself that I don’t need anything else, just this past month I bought a Tumi backpack, a Versace denim shirt, six pairs of Missoni socks, a Theory shirt, a Levis bomber jacket, some Brooks Brothers pants, and probably some other stuff that I’m not remembering at the moment. It’s like I’m having a midlife crisis, and because I don’t want to buy a Porsche like my bald brother, I’m spending my money on fancy clothes instead.

I need to worry more about what’s going on underneath my clothes (according to Shakira, there’s an endless story there). Maybe I’ll get a tattoo. I need to do something. I guess I’ll start with the one-handed, upside-down tree pose and see where that goes . . .

I’m Back . . . Again



Okay, I’m the world’s worst blogger.

That’s not really true because I did keep up a couple of sites for years and years. Nevertheless, I haven’t updated this site for ages. That’s about to change. I’m going to get back to the things I do best, like cracking terrible jokes. I’m going to try to resurrect the features of my previous blogs that I enjoyed writing, like the daily birthday shout-outs and the “Three Word Runway Reviews.” I also wanted to discuss astrology, my beloved reality shows and other things that fascinate me, including myself. I am so fascinating, after all.

Anyway, it’s a good day day for a fresh start. I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet and I’m already feeling fresh. Maybe I won’t bother . . .

A Public Service Announcement


Sleeve Tag

Okay, I admit that I’ve been the world’s worst blogger. However, now that the weather has taken a turn for the worse, maybe I’ll start writing again. Living where I live, I’m going to be spending a lot of time indoors for the next five months or so.

Anyway, I was just poking around some archival files on my computer when I discovered an article that I tried to sell to a local newspaper a few years ago. It’s just as relevant today as it was the day I wrote it. My apologies to the people who I interviewed in the event that they’ve changed their minds about providing me with their quotes. Too late!

Winter’s Worst Trend

As a fashion writer, I need to be a bit of snob. The fashion business is a hierarchy of uppity attitudes and to be considered an expert in the field I must perpetuate the belief that I implicitly know the difference between good taste and bad taste. Nevertheless, I usually don’t go out of my way to point out the foibles of others and I rarely get worked up over the so-called rules of style.

Since the arrival of winter, however, I’ve been mortified by a fashion faux pas that makes wiping your nose on your sleeve seem like a desirable alternative. People aren’t removing the removable tags from the winter coats they’re wearing.

The sleeve tags are there for a couple of reasons. In a retail store, removing a heavy winter coat from a hanger to read the interior labels can be awkward. Tags are sewn onto the sleeves of outerwear to allow a shopper to readily identify both brand and fabric content. On garments like men’s suit jackets, the sleeve tag helps differentiate between items that can appear similar when they are sandwiched together on the racks. But should those tags stay on the sleeves after the coat has left the store?

“The label on the sleeve of some winter coats is not meant to stay on. Which is why it’s usually just basted on and is easily removed,” claims Ceri Marsh, editor-in-chief of “FASHION Magazine” and the author of “The Fabulous Girl’s Guide to Decorum” (with Kim Izzo). “Nobody needs to know what your coat is made of — be it cashmere, alpaca or wool. It would be helpful if sales people found a diplomatic way of telling people to remove them.”

Apparently, the sales staff in finer stores do try to instruct the customers to remove the tags. Some stores even go further to assist their clientele. “We remove the tags before the clothes leave the store,” maintains Shiraz Allibhai, manager of Harry Rosen in West Edmonton Mall. And if the customer questions the practice, Allibhai adds “We educate them that that’s really not the way to wear the garment.”

But could there be an ulterior motive for wearing a label on your sleeve? Are some people so eager to broadcast the fact that they’re wearing a cashmere blend that they would leave the tags on intentionally? Probably not — the fabric isn’t that important — yet the name on the label often trumps the rules of decorum for those who know better, claims Allibhai. “The status of the designer label is very important. Some people actually request that it remains on.” Still, he insists that the tags are “always taken off.”

Unfortunately, not everyone shops in stores where the staff are so eager to educate their clientele — or even to do the work for them. In that case, removing the tags isn’t a big deal. “For those not in a possession of a seam ripper, nail scissors will do the trick” adds Marsh.

And that’s all it takes to go from gauche to gorgeous – unless you’re still wiping your nose on your sleeve. And if that’s the case, then you’ve got more to worry about than the tags on your coat.

A retraction . . .



I was just sorting through my memories of my trips to Vegas and I realized that my last couple of posts incorrectly blurred two of my trips together. Now I realize that I saw “Viva Elvis” the same time I stayed at the Signature. When I stayed at Mandalay Bay I saw “Dancing with the Stars Live” and “Zarkana” — or at least I think I did.

So if I’m correct, on my sixteenth trip I stayed at the MGM Grand with Tracy and Roland. I know that we saw “Love” at the Mirage and “Peepshow” at Planet Hollywood. That’s got to be right. You know you’ve been too many times when it all blurs into one! Of course, I didn’t see Tyra Banks in the audience at the show. If I had, it would have been etched into my mind like deep scar in my cerebellum (and I mean that in the nicest possible way).

I suppose that I have a handle on this now. This definitely was my sixteenth trip. We visited the Las Vegas Premium Outlets South where Roland lost his phone and it took two hours to find it. Karen turned fifty while we were there and Tracy sent her the most beautiful flower arrangement. My luck was bad, but it wasn’t as horrible as the previous trip. And I’m sure that this was the trip that Tracy and Roland decided to stay an extra day because they didn’t feel like going home.

It’s all coming together. By the time I leave on Saturday I’ll have figured out exactly how many times I’ve been there.