Here at Frump Central, we’ve been spending a lot of time and energy complaining about the winter. Getting pummeled by snowstorms that drop a foot at a time, twice weekly, for almost a month, will do that to you.
Eventually the snow starts to block what little sunlight tries to peek through the windows. The driveway narrows, the layer of icy crust underfoot thickens. You do all the laundry, twice, and you watch all the stockpiled DVD’s.
And then the red wine runs out.
Some of us get a tad irritable. And by “a tad ” irritable, I’m talking about a seething cauldron of rage, borderline homicidal, “No, I don’t WANT to have a nice day, and how dare you tell me what to do, you son of a …… ?!!!” And that’s on a good day.
So when the spring issue of one of my favorite fashion magazines arrived today, I was surprised at my reaction. I expected to feel another surge of annoyance — how dare those spring clothes mock me? A good three months (at least!) before I will be able to wear any of them?
Instead, I felt ridiculously, foolishly joyful. (So much so that, even though I dislike rampant commercialism and cross-promotion in the blogosphere, I feel I should be generous enough to give credit where credit is due: the magazine is Lucky. And yes, I do subscribe).
It was as if a strange, hallucinogenic state came over me. A euphoria, if you will. Suddenly, the harsh edges of my psyche were smoothed over. The darkness outside my kitchen window looked a little less dark. And I was inexplicably charmed by things that never charmed me before.
It all started with the bright pink dress on the cover. My heart sang even though I hate pink, which I associate with Pepto-Bismol and — oh, the horror — junior high school (thanks to pink Bubble Yum and Bonne Bell Lip Smackers).
Then I turned the page to be greeted by a lovely floral dress. I hate floral dresses, too! But this one was different, existing as it did in the midst of one of those fashion spreads photographed on safari in some very fashionable desert. Steamer trunks! Silk tents! Straw fedoras, lacy T-shirts, and sexy silver and turquoise jewelry!
But nothing prepared me for the row of sexy, up-to-there platform and cork sandals on the next page, showcasing perfectly polished toenails, of course.
Aaaaaaah! It was as if a soothing balm entered my soul…… though I must confess that I also felt my heart rate increasing.
Next up? An ad showing a woman lounging by a swimming pool in her underwear. Why, you ask, is she wearing her underwear by the pool? Well, we just don’t know. But who cares? Her cork platform sandals look fab, and she seems intrigued by the hunky guy swimming past her. (Or maybe she’s just haughty. Or bored. Or hungry. It’s so hard to tell with fashion models!)
Flip, flip, flip. More floral dresses and wedge sandals. Plus, a camouflage mini skirt. I want one!
And if you think I’m the only one getting ridiculously excited by the arrival of spring clothes, I refer you to the woman in the Shopbop ad who — from all appearances — seems to be having a sexual experience all by herself, while fully clothed. (Tag line: “Shopbop feels good.”)
Well, alrighty then. I’ll have what she’s having! Even though I have no idea what it is! Wheeeeee!
And I haven’t even touched on the makeup yet. Oh, the makeup! On almost every page! Warm, sunny, shimmery products in coral-based shades with names like blissful, happy days, fairytale and (of course) passion. Sign me up! I want to shine and sparkle, too! More sunny bliss, please!
By the time I got to the fashion spreads devoted to the French Riviera and 1960’s-era Palm Springs, I was ready to run out and purchase every item I saw. My pupils were fully dilated, I heard dizzy, singing voices in my head, and I may have started to hyperventilate.
And this was all before I saw the spring shoe guide. Hardly a closed toe or lace-up to be found. Oh, my.
I should probably be more concerned about the sinister motive behind these glossy spring issues, which are distributed annually by the shadowy figures in charge of the Fashion-Industrial Complex. They are urging us to part with our hard-earned cash, of course, by dangling shiny, colorful objects before our weary, snow-blinded eyes.
But I just don’t care. I will take relief from my winter funk wherever I can find it. Thank God for the spring fashion issue, is what I’m saying.
Fortunately for my bank account, by the time it actually gets warm here, I won’t even remember the 500 pairs of platform sandals that I want to buy.
But maybe just one? What do you think, should I? Spring only comes once a year… if we’re lucky.