On behalf of Twistie, The Manolo and all your friends in the Manolosphere, have a happy and haunted Halloween!
And while you’re wading through the vast hordes of the Sexy Try Too Hards, remember the immortal words of Dorothy Parker: You can lead a horticulture, but you can’t make her think.
I’m writing this on Monday afternoon. Hurricane Sandy is supposed to make landfall a bit north of us in a few hours and the leaves that had fallen prettily over the past week are now a matted wet carpet, beaten down by the constant rain. I suspect we’ll lose electricity tonight or tomorrow and I’m surprisingly fine with that. It’s not that cold, and historically my friend’s place doesn’t lose water or gas when the grid goes down.
When we lose electricity at Plumcake Cottage –which can happen during such traumatic weather events as a pelican landing on the roof– we lose everything. Never in my life did I expect to say “Sweetheart, go to the ocean and get a bucket of water. We need to be able to flush.” but there you have it. Tropical glamor: redefined.
Speaking of redefinition, I suppose now is as good a time as any to ask your opinion on Olivia Newton John’s career-defining character, Sandy Olsen in Surrender Your Identity To Garner Male Approval: The Musical, I mean Grease!
As you might be able to tell, I am not a fan. I mean I love Stockard Channing and pencil skirts as much if not more than the next girl, but even as a stupid teenager I remember being forced to sing Grease medleys and thinking “Is this a good idea? I really don’t think this is a good idea. Is this a good idea?” but I seemed to be the only one.
Okay, the wind is picking up and this copy of Kinky Boots isn’t going to watch itself. Stay safe, gang.
Well, it’s almost Halloween, and you know what that means: Miss Plumcake’s annual plea for you not to dress like you’re the Ambassador from Skanktasia on Halloween.
This isn’t slut shaming. If you want to dress like a Naughty Seasonal Non-CPA-Certified Tax Preparer, that’s fine by me, just do it on some other random day of the year. I’ve heard the weather’s nice on Arbor Day. Wear your three dollar lurex fishnets and speculum-length mini then. At least that takes courage.
The always-topical Manolo sensibly agrees.
And the women from Emotistyle (featuring Tim Gunn) tell you how to do it right.
Let’s play a little game, shall we?
I’m going to tell you all three true things about me and one lie. Then I want you all to try to guess which is the lie. Put your guesses in the comments and argue amongst yourselves all week long. Next saturday, I will reveal the truth about all three truths, and about which is the lie.
Got it? Good! Then let’s begin.
1: I once ate pate made by Raymond Burr.
2: I have appeared on television three times.
3: My parents saw Star Wars before I did.
4: My great-great grandfather joined the Union army shortly after the attack on Fort Sumpter, but spent most of the Civil War in the hospital.
Think you know which is the lie?
Let’s see how well you all know me.
Anna Eleanor Roosevelt Roosevelt said a lot of great things in her life. Here’s my personal favorite:
No one can make you inferior without your consent.
There are a lot of people out there determined to make me inferior. Why? Because they want to charge me extra for goods and services, sell me diet plans and surgery, or just find someone to feel superior to themselves. Well, I’m sorry for them. It ain’t gonna work.
You see, I don’t consent.
I am not inferior.
I am not superior.
I am equal.
I deserve to be treated well just as much as any other person.
My body is not a problem to be solved or a platform for someone else’s fearmongering. It’s just my body. It does what it does, does not do what it does not do, and is very much okay precisely as it is.
Fat, night blindness, occasional ingrown toenail and all, I am equal.
Nobody has my consent to make me less than I am.
I don’t say it’s always easy. There are a lot of people out there determined to take my consent and yours by force. But do your best not to let them have your consent, either.
Because you know what? They don’t deserve it.
And if you need another quote to get you through, you can always remember what this plucky young lady said to a very sexy goblin king:
You have no power over me.
So. I am always, always hearing my plus size sisters complaining they can’t get Nice Things To Wear, that it’s all terribly constructed sweat shop rags with glitter and tragic silkscreens and those dreaded flaccid ruffles.
Well, time to put your money where your mouth is. You want variety? You want high-quality, ethically made garments? You want clothes that are constructed as well as any top notch straight-sized line? Here you go.
Support award-winning designer Eden Miller get her Cabiria Style line into stores.
Now, in the spirit of full disclosure, I probably wouldn’t wear any of these dresses, with perhaps the exception of the silk jersey Valentina, but that’s just because this collection’s particular variety of whimsy isn’t one to which I’m typically drawn.
I would serve this so hard Venus Williams would blush
I’m going to support Eden not because I love what she’s offering today, but because I want to see what she’ll do next season and the season after that (maybe something with more of a sleeve? Please? Not everyone wants to jam out with their hams out. Also, if you don’t tell me where you got those emerald green cowboy boots I will die a thousand deaths and then never be able to buy your collection.)
Where DID she get those boots?
Since there seems to be a whole lotta Fellini happening in and around Cabiria Style (Nights of Cabiria, my second favorite Fellini flick, inspired the line’s name), I’m going to guess the Valentina dress is named after the luminous Valentina Cortese, who is featured prominently in my favorite Fellini film, Juliet of the Spirits.
I know, I know. I’ve been a bad and neglectful blogger. The whys and wherefores are tedious, but only half as tedious as it would be to explain them. Basically I’m overtired, thirsty and covered in glitter which was acceptable back in 2000 when I’m pretty sure I expressed glitter through my pores, but now is irritating in both the literal and figurative sense.
None of that excuses my absence though, so to make it up to you, I declare an open forum Tuesday. You know the rules: ask any question you like for the next 48 hours and I will do my level best to answer it in the comments. No subject is off limits (within reason), so speak now or forever hold your peas.
No seriously, hold your peas. I slipped last time and still have a green stain on my jeans.
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