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Scratching the Surface

Fashion/Style by Liza Van Horne

The older ladies looked pretty good too. I loved Gloria's sapphire blue fitted jacket - it was a lovely color and cut, not too flashy, and flattering. Kay had on a triple strand of ginormous silver-gray pearls and a sea foam green jacket with simple lines on Wednesday and Thursday, and that's a tricky color to carry off, but she did it. Jill forsook her usual wraparound v-necked tops for a black tailored pantsuit paired with a tomato-red satin blouse, which perked up her complexion and looked very polished.

But once again it was Karen who got my vote for best dressed in an adorable hounds tooth-patterned dress with cap sleeves for her conversation with Neil in which she finally called him out on wanting a Stepford version of Dru. I swear to God, I would wear most of what she wears. I love the figure-flattering lines of her clothing, and the vaguely retro feel. She's awfully cute, if boring as dry toast, and it's too bad she's outta there - but who can blame her, with that domineering daddy-freak of a boyfriend? That guy has a metric buttload of issues. It's about time somebody told him he was completely co-dependent and rejected his offer to worship at the shrine of Saint Dru.

I don't know what the hell Amber was wearing as she glumly answered phones and acted like she was doing everybody a favor by showing up for her job at all. I think it was short shorts attached to a bulky, stiff top with lots of flaps and buttoned pockets - a romper, for God's sake. It looked a bit like those old fashioned gym suits people used to have to wear for P.E. - not that I would know because I was usually hiding in a locked bathroom stall with my legs pulled up so anyone checking underneath couldn't tell. True story. My ninth-grade gym teacher hated my guts but I got back at him by writing a snarky column for the school newspaper about what a freakish Nazi a-hole he was and skipped class the day it came out. I'm told he was less than flattered. Gosh, that was shocking. Fuck him.

Sabrina broke the record for Most Unnecessary Costume Changes this week by switching from her frothy dress made of yards of lavender toilet paper to another outfit for whipping up some Coquilles Saint Jacques that evening - and then when Victor called to say he was blowing her off for a private dinner with his investors at the club, she was wearing a blue short-sleeved thigh-length smock with a sequined yoke and so help me God, BLACK CAPRI LEGGINGS. And THEN when Victor got his sweaty horse-smelling ass back home after symbolically riding the hell out of Blue Smoke, who probably just wanted to sleep at that hour, she had changed AGAIN. What the freaking frack was THAT all about? I'm so sick of watching this swaggering Methuselah desperately attempting to gnaw her face off in fear that his ancient wurble will go limp at any moment. If anybody should be opening spam emails about erectile dysfunction, it's Sabrina. They can't be paying that poor actress highly enough if you ask me. I wonder if she goes home at the end of the day and rocks back and forth in a dark room while doing continuous shots of whiskey. I know I would!

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