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Fashion/Style
by
Liza Van Horne
July 18, 2008
Have any of you ever worked in a restaurant or bar,
dear readers? I ask because if you have, you might
be aware that although technically it's not a
violation of Wisconsin health code, most restaurant
owners insist that their employees refrain from
wearing sleeveless tops of any kind while serving
customers. Why? Well, how would you like a whiff of
your server's naked armpit as she reaches across to
pour you another refill of coffee? Talk about gross.
Colleen Carlton doesn't seem to give a shit, though,
bitching her way around the Jitter Joint in a
radioactive-yellow camisole with a white lace insert
on the front. I'm pretty sure she was wearing
high-heeled sandals, too, which is another no-no in
restaurants because of, say, dripping hot liquids
like coffee on your exposed feet or slipping
on a spill in your heels and dropping a tray of
drinks all over your customers and yourself. Also,
in compliance with state regulations she ought to
have her hair tied back and shouldn't be allowed to
wear jewelry other than a flat ring or a medic alert
bracelet. Not that Jana is any better--what was
that baby-blue ruffled top with the light-blue
streaks in her enormous beehive as she frantically
tried to conjure demons to tell her which Genoa City
couple was on the outs?! Bottom line: if you want to
lose weight the easy way, come on down to the Jitter
Joint and get yourself some foodborne illness and
puke your way to a smaller jeans size. Easy-peasy. I
guess somebody must be paying off the Genoa City
health inspectors. Maybe they all get free chocolate
muffins and orange hot cocoa for life.
Enough about Colleen "The Slutty Fetus". She and her
forehead can't get off my screen soon enough. Let's
talk about Katherine and her new hobby of mentoring
younger women. First it was Nikki, then Amber and
now she's playing mother hen to Sabrina. Hold your
head high, young ladies, hold your head high! Kay
herself looked good at the gala-planning luncheon,
enthusiastically fondling a carrot stick for several
minutes while wearing a tobacco-brown jacket with
ivory top-stitching and wide lapels. Victoria
dragged her sulky ass to the event looking
impossibly dowdy in a yellow-and-brown print blouse
with unflattering elbow-length sleeves, belted at
the waist with a brown belt. Standing next to
Sabrina, who wore a simple white satin blouse with
short gathered sleeves tucked into a high-waisted
black skirt, Vicky looked frumpy as hell. But hey!
She's on the cover of Useless Style and CBS's The
Early Show wants to interview her! I can imagine
how that would go:
JULIE CHEN: So you've been through a lot this
year! From what I understand, you got bonked on the
head with a large chunk of Styrofoam and nearly lost
both your own life and the life of your unborn baby!
VICTORIA: Yes, that's true. It was just awful. At
one point my family had to decide whether to deliver
Reed very prematurely. I'd been trying to have a
child for so long, which is--you know--painful, and
this pregnancy meant so much to me. Look, here's a
picture of him--he's huge now! (audience lets out a
collective Awww)
JULIE CHEN: He's just beautiful. You'd never know he
was premature! Wow, after going through all that, I
can only imagine how thrilled you must be to get to
stay at home with him every day now!
VICTORIA: Um. Well.
So with Victoria on the cover, all that's left is
for Nikki to join the "hundreds of employees" at
Useless Style to keep it all in the family. Nikki
could write a column about how to remain deeply in
denial when your boring lout of a husband has been
lying to you left and right and incidentally has
quite possibly killed several people. "You just have
to stay positive," she'd declare in her lilting
Pollyanna tones, "because standing by your man never
goes out of style!" Oy. Nikki's hair seems blonder
recently and I really dislike the flipped ends they
give her. The flatness at her crown isn't helping
anything. She needs more volume. All of her clothes
have been boring lately so I'm not wasting your time
bothering to describe them.
Sharon and Phyllis, though, were playing
Deathmatch: SHEATH DRESSES on Wednesday;
each had on a figure hugging sheath with a jewel
neck and bare arms, but Sharon's was thistle-purple
and Phyllis's had a very interesting pattern of
aqua, teal and blue. It almost looked like the sort
of designs you see in Indian henna tattoos.
Amber continued attempting to curry Porniel's
forgiveness while dressed in a one-shouldered black
mini-dress and a necklace that said "REBEL". I don't
know that I'd consider Amber a rebel so much as
somebody with nonexistent impulse control, a bad
case of self-absorption and the attention span of a
fruit fly. She seemed to be bad-girl-bonding with
Chloe Mitchell, who was kind enough to drop by and
give the magazine an opportunity to hire her. I
don't know that I would be so keen to hire a stylist
who was traipsing around in high heels and puffy
white diapers, but nobody asked me. What were
those shorts?! Does anybody actually wear puffy
short-shorts like that?! But then again, this is the
town where all the young ladies who have svelte
little figures like to hide their lights under a
bushel by wearing any number of halter-necked
trapeze tops and dresses that billow around them
like circus tents. LISTEN UP, GIRLS. That shit don't
last forever. Flaunt it while you can, because soon
enough you'll be pushing 40 and looking at a recent
family photo in which you resemble Hurley from
Lost and you'll think mournfully, "Damn. I USED
TO be cute. What the frack happened?!" Not that this
happened to me today or anything! No, dear readers,
your humble style columnist is the very image of
glamour at all times. She even wears a feather boa
in the shower. That's called commitment, folks!
Cheers? Jeers? Fashion archives? See below. |
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