Yesterday, while I tried on shorts in the local small town store. (It seems GV is no longer overpriced for the dumb rich folk.) Right there in the dressing room, in front of God and ev…well, in front of God and the mirror, anyway–Gloria Vanderbilt lied and said I was a size 12.
Since I’ve been a 16 for quite some time now, I think not. I’d like to pretend Gloria is just being kind, but I secretly suspect the old gal’s on crack. It can happen to the bored elite, you know.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been lied to by a fashionista, either. Liz Claiborne lives in HappyLand, where everyone is petite.
I’m not kidding.
And so, dear friends, this missive comes to you with a warning. Don’t. Trust. Retailers. Because really, where will it end? Abercrombie sweatshirts with tags that say “You’re so smart to pay double what this sweatshirt is actually worth! Buy, sheep, BUY!” ? Designer jeans with “Damn your butt looks good!” printed on the inside? ‘Tis Madness. MADNESS!