Oh my goodness, dear readers, I'm having fits of the
vapors trying to decide what to address first, since
there were so very many crimes against fashion being
committed left and right this week in a certain
corner of Wisconsin. And as we all know, thanks to
Maggie Sullivan and Polly Purebred, nobody in Genoa
City ever pays for their crimes!
Let's begin with Jana's outfit on Monday. She was
decked out in a bright pink silk blouse with short
fluttery cap sleeves and a high neckline featuring -
so help me God - a pink fabric rose. Slap a Vicki
Lawrence wig on the girl and she's ready for the
seniors' shuffleboard tournament on the U.S.S.
LiverSpots. But in fact, she was not wearing a short
gray permed wig! She had her hair all curled and
piled on her head like the bizarre evil twin of
Dolly Parton, with purple hair extensions, which on
top of the hot pink made her look like the Hello
Kitty factory threw up on her.
Hope, otherwise known as Little Miss Plot
Contrivance, was swanning about her good
old-fashioned Kansas bedroom in a pale yellow
flowered nightie and what looked to be several dirty
socks knotted around her neck. Not to be a jerk, but
the first thing that sprung to me mind was "Why
would a blind person wear makeup and dye her hair
blonde? What's the point, and why would she even
care?" Oh well. Some things are not meant to be
understood, I guess. Victor was right there in his
Penis Compensation Leather Jacket to give her
strength. I wonder if he got his jacket at the same
Burlington Coat Factory sale where Brad scored his.
Back in the glamorous bigg-ish city, Sharon and Jack
were out on the town at IndiBlow, and I was starting
to get excited that Sharon's hair was pulled back,
until she turned to the side and I could plainly see
that her low chingon was all ratty and full of
loose, unkempt strands. Is it really too much to ask
that people give half a shit what their hair looks
like?! Her dress was a little black cocktail number
with the same weird single strap going from the
center of her cleavage to her right shoulder, where
it ended in a foofy black bow of which I heartily
disapproved.
Chloe, Lily's anorexia coach, showed up on Tuesday
in a brown and metallic gold outfit that seriously
reduced her credibility as a fashion expert. She's
trying to work the Posh Spice bob and I'm not buying
what she's selling. Especially since she sent poor
Lily out into the word wearing a racer-backed dark
coppery-brown sheath with enough sequins to give
Nikki's gay wedding outfit a run for its money. It's
the battle of the sequins! Sequin Deathmatch 2008!
Matron vs. Ingenue!
Om Wednesday, Jana lost her mind again and was
dressed like a Christmas elf in a bright emerald
green top with a matching velvet scarf, and red hair
extensions. Her hair was once again in an updo, but
it looked as if she'd walked under a revolving wheel
of forks, because pieces and strands were pulled out
and flying around limply and frizzily. Amber
actually appeared somewhat cute in a French twist
and a black tank under a blouse of sheer black
netting. Back at the Yawn Abbot Memorial Mansion of
Bitter Enmity, Gloria plotted and schemed in a long
maroon sweater-coat with faux fur at the cuffs and
collar, which I sort of liked on her. But the best
was to come, as she emerged resentfully from the
kitchen wearing a sheer pink organza APRON with cute
little decorative pockets! My lands! Paging June
Cleaver!
On Valentine's Day, Nick looked utterly emasculated
in a pale pink polo while he attempted to interest
Baby Summer in the stupid stuffed animal he gave
her, but Summer herself was uncharacteristically
adorable in a little red dress and fluffy white
cardigan. Squee! Too cute! Over at the Sugar Shack,
Victoria's hair looked like ass with about four
inches of straggling split ends. How is it that all
during her months-long nap, her hair was gloriously
healthy and shiny, and now that she's awake she
walks around looking like Cousin It? Why do the
wealthy women of Genoa City fear and loath haircuts?
For shit's sake, Amber, in her Alice In Wonderland
wide black hair-band and bangs, had nicely trimmed
ends, so what's with the upper crust ladies all
looking like homeless people?
Speaking of ladies, it appears Porniel's hair is
even blonder, and now he's wearing it with little
curly tufts that make him resemble a fluffy yellow
duckling. At his sneezing mother's Tackyhouse,
Porniel might as well have had lederhosen on while
enjoying a mug of AryanBrau. Sig heil! Nick spoke
for all of us when he said "I still cannot get used
to your hair." There's a reason for that, Nick! Your
Neanderthal brain has a built-in fight-or-flight
instinct. Good for you, man!
At the Jitter Joint, Porniel and his BFF Amber
concluded that sticking Tab "A" in Slot "B" really
does fuck up a friendship, while Kevin showed off
his ridiculous new red highlights and Jana
completely blew me away by coming to work dressed as
a 1940s madam in a heavy red crocheted dress and her
hair all rolled up on top of her head. With her
false eyelashes and red lipstick she looked as uber-dramatic
as an award acceptance speech by Sally Fields! Holy
Crap! I asked for a cup of freaking coffee, not a
wartime prostitute! Tone it down there, Pearl
Harbor!
Lily's wrap dress in an eye-searing shade of red was
pretty okay, but her elderly boyfriend needs to quit
wearing tight, light blue dress shirts that show his
manboobs to a painful degree. Cane is hot as the day
is long, but that shirt was straining across his
developing breast buds and the guy desperately
needed a training bra or something. I promptly
forgot about that visual assault, though, once Lily
ripped her dress off to reveal more intricate
lingerie than I believe I'd seen in all of 2007. Say
what you will about Lily. If I had the body to pull
off cute (if cheesy) lingerie like that, I'd do it
in a hot second.
Finally, how awesome were those flashbacks of ditzy
young Nikki and a very thin, black-haired Victor
looking like a total pimp? Wow. That shit hearkened
back to an era where Nikki's hair weighed thirty
pounds and she was able to walk without bending
forward at a thirty degree angle. What is up with
that posture? She was rattling around the Main House
like someone stuck a ten-pound dumbbell down her
shirt. Nikki! Straighten up and fly right! By which
I mean "right out of David's lunkish arms". Pretty
please?
Editor's note: Liza is a struggling freelance writer
who gives her talent at no cost to the Genoa City
News. If you like her work and would like to
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