Godammit, I’m Mad!

Sometimes, things that are awful bring us joy; but sometimes, they’re just plain awful. Queen Marie was rightly offended by the notion of fake high-heels made for babies. For $35, you can buy a pair of these shoes, put them on a baby and laugh your ass off. Ha ha, look at the baby! You could also put sunglasses and jewelry on the baby and laugh even more. Sister Wolf says, Give that $35 to a homeless shelter and leave the baby alone.

As a fur-lover and proud carnivore, I am usually happy to see fur accessories, but here’s something that shocked me with it’s assaultive ugliness. Not only are these leg-warmers an abomination, they are even sold out! Presumably, whoever bought them is somewhere right now, laughing at babies in high heels.

For the third and final No, I bring you this photo courtesy of The Look-See. These models were used by Yohji, Etro, and Ann Demeulemeester in Milan. They are not conventional male model types, get it? They are old geezers! This is so funny, like high heels on a baby! But I would rather stick with handsome boys.

The moral here is that some people will be fooled into accepting awfulness as some sort of post-modern joke, but We are simply not having it.

While I’ve been pondering the mutton-dressed-as-lamb issue (evoked by the sight of a 63 year old film director wearing silver lamé jeans,) fate led me to a blog where men were busy explaining why dewy young women are infinitely superior to women over thirty.

Ladies, prepare to give up any illusions of a post-sexist world.  There are men among us who truly believe in their tiny hearts that women are ruined for all intents and purposes once they’ve been soiled by education and experience. Not only ruined, but downright disgusting.

Ah well. Being Sister Wolf, I barged into their conversation and toyed with them. This brought about wounded cries of “Feminist! Angry Woman!” and all the usual charges meant to send women cringing back into their sewing circles.

Let me just say, I FUCKING LOVE MEN! I love them when they’re stupid insecure babies, and I love them when they’re nice grown-up men. I love them when they’re gay and I love them when they don’t even know they’re gay. I love them the most when they love women.

Back to the mutton/lamb thing: In preparing for my Golden Years, I’ve been asking friends for advice about the Cut-Off Date, as in when is it time to give up jeans and a t-shirt and settle into a more age-appropriate dress-code.  Everyone seems to think that one should keep on dressing the way one always dressed. I can’t agree, though. The silver jeans were just wrong for the nice woman who wore them, even though she was as cool as you could ask for, without being Patti Smith.

Patti is the supreme role model for maintaining your coolness and your dignity. But I plan to swap my jeans for long Victorian mourning dresses. I will wear my hair in a bun, and no one will dare bother me. Plus, I will learn to cackle.

Check out this beautiful dress below. This will be the foundation of my Look. Then, check out this whole online shop if you are still drawn to Goth finery. The bustle skirts and petticoats made me moan out loud…as only a woman over thirty can moan.