Remember the Benefit Incident, and the pathetic correspondence that ensued between me and Patricia, the company’s US Customer Care Manager?

Well, I wrote back to Patricia, turning on the ol’ Sister Wolf charm:

Good evening Patricia,

Your reply makes no sense. After patiently waiting for 8 days, I am dismayed by your inability to provide any response to my concerns. How can the regional manager help me by discussing anything with “the beauty adviser.”  Which beauty adviser are you referring to? I didn’t even identify the store where this happened!

Patricia, here is the plan. You will want to convey to me Benefit’s ACTUAL POLICY regarding its sales techniques and whether it is considered acceptable to physically accost a potential customer.

That way, my readers may be assured that it is safe to approach a Benefit cosmetics counter.

Finally, you may want to offer me some of your products, with an emphasis on red lipsticks, to compensate me for my considerable distress at the hands of your assaultive sales representative.

I am prepared to follow up with your superiors if necessary.

Sincerely disappointed,

XXXXXX Wolf

Patricia phoned me the very next morning. She explained that the Benefit sales associates are supposed to direct traffic to their counter, but not to slop the product on without asking. She assured me that they want the cosmetics shopping experience to be almost like a party. I made some idiotic and reckless analogy that I won’t repeat, and we said goodby after Patricia promised to pop some red lipstick in the mail for me.

Isn’t that nice?

The lipsticks have arrived: Flirt Alert, and Frenched. One is a clear soft red, and the other a deep cranberry color. I have judged them to be somehow inferior, so I want to pass them on to you, the faithful reader! I will even pay for shipping in the US. We can haggle over shipping if you live somewhere else.

To enter the contest to own these brand new, unused but  somehow inferior lipsticks, just explain in your comment why you want them.  The best explanation wins!

** For a look at the best customer complaint letter ever written in the history of the world, go here.

Ali knows that Fashion Editors like attention! Her umbrella is a good way to stab underlings and to teach Tavi how to really block the view at a runway show. See how she has artfully exposed her belly button, too.

A good Fashion Editor needs to glare. Perhaps her assistant has mispronounced “Margiela?”

Athif is rocking the shit out of this season’s pagan feather and fur accents. His bedroom slippers say: “I make the rules, you just follow them!”

Skye is a goddess and she knows it. Don’t make her mad.

Here, Skye rocks the Wonder Woman look that brings Anna dello Russo to her knees. Sunglasses and crazy head-wear are key to Fashion Editor Style.

Kate is shit with a camera, because it’s not her job, damn you! Her job is to strut around in her clunky heels, waving her fan and barking “Show me something else!” and “Who’s going to carry me up those stairs?”

Enna knows that Fashion Editors can look like hookers and still feel superior. Her mini-dress and heels say “Fuck me!” while her expression says “Fuck off!” She probably learned this from Carine Roitfeld, who is jealous of her radiant youth.

Behold TheShoeGirl. What’s not to love? As you know, she is sex on wheels. Her cigarette and BlackBerry show that she means business. Her fur and heels are forbidding, but the flash of tummy makes her almost human.

Note the oversize sunglasses and the bossy attitude.  Classic Fashion Editor.

Finally, a special treat: Sister Wolf flaunts her Fashion Editor Style in front of her admiring dog. Leather shorts from Queen Michelle, Fluffy gilet from Queen Marie, vintage gold Gucci sunglasses (that you can buy if you’re interested.)

Thank you, Fashion Editors! xoxo

*Those of you who didn’t step up to this challenge, Grrrr.  Next time, no excuses.

A young child might look at this photo and say, “Oh, look, clowns!” But we know better.

Our next reader challenge is Fashion Editor Style. Can you look effortlessly crazy, chic, snooty, and age-inappropriate? Then get someone to take your picture and send it to sisterwolf666@gmail.com.

(TheShoeGirl and Rosie, that means you.)

The shoes at Saks.com are like a festival of roadkill.

I’ve always loved fur but something about this footwear trend is making me gag. I wonder how dogs react when they see these things approaching? I’ve tried to decide which pair above is the ugliest, but it hurts to dwell upon them.

On a related note, I am stuck with my Kate Moss Groupie Coat, since no one on ebay was astute enough to buy it from me.

There is no fucking way I’m going to wear this coat and look like a Chanel Yeti or anything of that ilk. I bought it last year in a moment of delirium.

What can I do to make this coat better? I’m thinking of cutting it off to make a short jacket. Is this good or not good? Would I need to hem it? Because I can’t handle that.

Should I add some color with paint or sharpies or something?

I could run a huge contest called “Fuck Up My Coat” and post all your ideas on Flickr, but no, that’s not how I roll. Just let me know if you have a suggestion.

Wasn’t the Nomadic Baglady style-fest the funnest thing ever?! Now, who’s ready to try Clueless Goth?

Clueless Goth is a wonderful category that isn’t as easy as it sounds. Straight-up Goth is not what we’re going for. I’m talking about hipster, mallrat, moto-obsessed neo-crypto-Goth. Torn shit, leather, spikes, fierce rad skull-ridden Luxirare-worshiping badass edgy dark darketty gnarlitude.

Let’s see what you got! The  Shoegirl will kill this but Rosie is not to be underestimated, or Marie either.

Submissions to sisterwolf666@gmail.com

After all my labor at Refinery 29, I won a contest at Fashion Intel! Yay! I haven’t had a watch since I lost mine in January, so this is the perfect prize.

Some bitch castigated me for entering the Refinery 29 contests, like it was proof positive of my lonely boring wretched life as a guilt-ridden old crone with no purpose in life.

Fuck you, bitch! My purpose was winning a watch and now I’ve done it.

Why I didn’t win the latest Refinery 29 contest where you had to describe your “steamiest seduction story” is a total mystery, though.  My story was by far the least nauseating. Oh well.

In any case, it has been exhausting to read the hate mail that’s been pouring in this week. If you’re a raving moron who can’t spell “you’re” but you like the word “vitriol,” I know I’ll be hearing from you.  But try to remember: You can’t hurt me and you can’t shut me up.

Love, xo SW

I’m sorry, I need to keep entering these contests at Refinery 29. I am persistent if nothing else.

Take a moment to vote for Kate of Make Do Style, whose delightful short film deserves to make the cut at the Paris film festival, presented by Diane Pernet… vote here, right now!!

xoxoxo

The prize is a bottle of the “ultimate pink” nail polish by Deborah Lippman.

Look how that bitch above me has to “throw on” her shoes right after I said I’d “throw on” my Wangs.  What a copycat!

Refinery 29 is running ANOTHER contest, this time to win a piece of Rossmore Jewelry. You just have to write about your favorite summer accessory and the most interesting answer will win.

Imagine my horror to find that some bitch named Jinjen wrote about an alligator foot necklace that goes with all her dark and tribal blah blah blah, a full hour before I wrote my entry. Fuck! What a cheater!