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Scratching the Surface

Fashion/Style by Liza Van Horne
May 23, 2008

Dear readers, wasn't it awfully sympathetic of Sabrina Casterfate to tell Victoria that it's difficult to find one's place in a family like the Newmans, where there's so little margin for error? I guess it's exponentially related to the miles-wide margin for error in their wardrobe choices, then! Just when I thought Victoria's fashion sense couldn't possibly sink any lower, she flopped around the office on Wednesday in a brown gauzy peasant blouse with huge beige polka dots, and her hair pulled back in the front but left to straggle down her shoulders in the back. My first impression was that she looked like some kind of hobo in that getup. She managed to redeem herself slightly the following day in a dark forest green suit with a nipped-in waist, peplum, and short bunchy sleeves, which would have been cuter had it not been two sizes too small. Also, she appeared to have washed her hair in recent history, so thank God for small favors.

Her doting mother was also in the Fashion Danger Zone in an unflattering, clumsy red dress with her hair up in a French twist, held in place by a faux alligator headband. Things went from bad to worse on Thursday as she co-dependently talked about the 10th Step in a pale gray suit whose designer must have been influenced by Cubism, as the jacket's short, clunky cut made her torso appear to be a square. Ugh, why can't they let her wear nice tailored pants and a fitted jacket?!

On the other end of the Newman women's spectrum, Sabrina was regaled with a "private trunk show" on Wednesday, though there was no trunk involved so perhaps it should have been called a "private rack show". Speaking of private racks, Victor finally put on a crew-necked shirt, so we were spared the visual assault of his ancient mancakes. Sabrina had opted to wear a white blouse with a wide black waist-cincher over it that looked vaguely BDSM, which is wholly appropriate as Victor will be collaring her any day now and branding her ass in with his mark - probably a giant penis inscribed with the words "YOU GOT THAT?!" Peepaw's exotic princess cooed and fretted over the clothing displayed by Lauren Fenmore, who, in her one-shouldered Glenn plaid dress was in full suck-up mode, just short of physically drooling over a possible sales coup. But despite Victor's encouragement, the noble Sabrina only selected one item: a purse. Now, I don't carry a purse and I know absolutely nothing about purses, but a regular contributor to Television Without Pity knew the score. This is what "plumeria" had to say:

"A Hermes Birkin Bag, which - if you can even get one (celebs and models get first dibs and if you even had say, $25,000 to spend on one, if you were a nobody, you wouldn't be able to get one on a good day) - run well into the $15,000 to the-sky's-the-limit-depending-on-how-rare-the-leather-is-range. So yeah, bitch totally took advantage on that one. All those dresses combined wouldn't add up to what that fucking bag costs, let alone being able to buy one. Oh, and another BULLSHIT CALL on Lauren even having a Hermes bag. WTF?! Anyone who knows Hermes knows that only a Hermes Boutique can sell Hermes, they don't sell through small town family owned department crap stores."

Thank you for the information, "plumeria"! I plead utter ignorance on the subject of such things. Despite her protests, Sabrina was in fact wearing one of the dresses from the "private rack" show the very next day - a blazing blue dress with cap sleeves and a zipper down the front that reminded me of Jerri Manthey's perpetually-worn scuba top from the second season of Survivor.

Heather Stevens reappeared on Wednesday with springy spiral-curled hair a few shades darker than it was before. I don't know who in the hell dyes their hair mousy dishwater blondish brown on purpose, but whatever. Her pinstriped suit was nicely tailored, but the black lacy camisole worn underneath the jacket was a bit too "boudoir" for the office if you ask me. Compared to what some of these other ladies wear to work, though, she practically looked like a nun. How funny is it that Heather wore a Pilgrim outfit to the karaoke party - ostensibly her first social outing in years - but a lacy camisole to work?! God, these people do not have a clue.

The word of the day was Cassie, Cassie, Cassie, and in conclusion I am going to be a horrible person and pick on the dead girl's portrait that serves as a complete downer on the patio of the Jitter Joint. Dude, when I go out for coffee I don't need to be seeing a shrine to some dead girl. Keep that shit by the side of the road where it belongs. In the enormous portrait, Cassie herself is wearing a stupid-looking red and white striped halter top and has terrible posture. She looks like a dirty-faced little troll. Fortunately for me they killed her off so I don't have to deal with her. See what a sensitive soul I am?

Cheers? Jeers? Fashion archives? See below.

 
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