The Boys I Mean Are Not Refined

Yesterday I noticed that the Sly Little Minx was wearing the same clamdiggers I was. This was an unusual occurrence indeed; a rare and momentous occasion worthy of documenting. I believe that the Minx's exact response was, "Don't they fit great! I love the big belt loops! Banana? YAY!" Fortunately, the Cricket was present to take a photograph (or two).


I didn't expect to ever wear a piece of clothing that the Minx also owned. The realization that the Minx and I have the same pair of clamdiggers in our respective wardrobes induced a strange and chilling effect on me. I also noticed that the Minx refered to this style of cut as "capri," which really freaked me out. I am haunted to this day. Typically, we have competing ideologies regarding fashion. I began to wonder what other items of clothing we share. Should I start an Excel spreadsheet and track her attire for a month as an experiment? As we sat side by side I noticed that the Minx was not only wearing the same clamdiggers as I was, but also she was significantly tanner. I looked quite peaked--as if I had been dipped in a bottle of Elmers Glue and hung out to dry. When the Cricket showed me the pics, I noticed that the Minx was more photogenic than I am! I also noticed that (as evidenced in the pic on the left) I am fond of angrily barking directives while the Minx maintains the pleasant aura of a lovely praying mantis. Everyone knows that the Minx is slinky and sly; a master at feigning innocence. I wondered, How egregious is this fashion faux pas? This started me on a mad fashion research feaver...

I began with Fashionologie, but still felt empty. I love Fashion by Ja Kel, with endless digressions about Paris Hilton and Britney Spears, but still, no substance! Kiss me Stace isn't so bad. But what about the fact that leg warmers are coming back; the Mayor has been right all along--this I learned from Gallery of the High Heels! Where should I turn for the answers when there is no archive of Mr. Blackwell's astute observations? Gawker? Hollywood Fashion Tape? Certainly the Escape Goat and The Mayor of Moneytown would advise me to check those two blogs first and foremost. Should I go to Manolo's, but how could I turn to Manolo's when his Gallery of Horrors assured me that my tried and true Birkenstocks are a crime against fashion (as if the Mayor hasn't flashed her fashion police badge and reminded me of that enough already)! Surley Manolo could help solve my bamboozlement. The Purse Blog made it pretty apparent that my Swiss Army laptop-ready messenger bag is so unhip. Perhaps Lipstick is my Crack could help me? Should I Shoe my Day Away, or seek the wisdom of I am Pretty? Should I go to Fashion Week? Admittedly, I have committed some notorious bad fads, but where did this fit in? I decided to turn to First View to get schooled on the haute couture. Finally, I stumbled across this link to the Chateau Bizarre's archives where I found something right up my alley! I highly recommend their series called Haute or Not? (After you read the first review scroll down to the bottom for another Haute or Not?)

All of my research lead me to conclude that I am a fashion nightmare, and the Minx is the one who should be worried--not me. Obviously, the Minx did not have the same internal conflict that I was experiencing, as seen below she shamelessly turned her attention to gobbling a sweet treat. Take note of her cute shoes; catch them and paint them purple. As you can see, Sam--the World's Ugliest Dog--looks over her shoulder and leers; even he knows her schtick:



All of this refinement reminded me of a really cool poem that e.e. cummings wrote--"the boys i mean are not refined." Then I remembered that I have an excellent hand-written version of it (penned in cummings's own hand). Okay, so it's taken from a book, but in the book he wrote out the poem instead of typing. Just click on the below pic to enlarge it and read. So many people have read "maggie and milly and molly and may," as well as "anyone lived in a pretty how town." If only children were forced to recite this poem--instead of the Pledge of Allegance every morning--fashion would not be such a problem...