I. Angels We Have Heard Are High
First. I want these hostess robes to make a comeback. How forgiving is this style? Anything could be jiggling or dimpling under there and no one would ever know. I've seen the jumpsuits among the celebs haute, and I'm liking that idea, too. All that wide room in the pant legs? Perfect. Why have we allowed seasons and seasons of trends that only a bulimic twelve year old can wear? I'm weary of hunting for jeans that actually cover my butt cheeks. But I digress. What really strikes me in these pics is the look on all of these women's faces! At once, angelic, and well, stoned. That vapid stare. Nobody is home in there. If it weren't for the comedic relief of some of these hair styles, I might be reminded of Children of the Corn.
II. Puffy Scuffs
I adore these. And yes. They are ugly. But these are the very slippers, nay, scuffs, that my grandmother wore all throughout the first decade of my life. They matched these little gowns, in Easter egg colors, that I borrowed to wear whenever I would spend the night. They, too, were nylon tricot. I don't even know what that is, but it does not sound organic. And they had puffed cap sleeves, an empire waist, and some sort of scratchy lace along the square neckline. They made me feel just like Wendy in Peter Pan. Or a princess. I can still see Mama Kat's toes, all long with nails painted Revlon red, peeking out from underneath that crazy rosette, while she started the biscuits in the morning.
III. Distinctive, definitely
A His 'n' Hers collection! Now, I would gladly take that floppy suede hat (so Faye Dunaway), but to, oh, I don't know, head out for a day of flea marketing in matchy matchy with my beau? Did any man really go for that? And if so, how in wearing these groovy duds was the "look for the true individual" achieved while standing right beside your ultra-fashionable, totally comfortable twin? Oh, I get it. He wears the braided headband on his thigh, while you rock it on your forehead. Now I dig it.
IV. ???
If I walked in the bedroom, and my husband was wearing this, in this pose, with this look on his face, we'd never have sex again. That's all I can say about this.
V. Far out
Do you think the psychedelic deal was on the way out when JC Penney began selling it for $14.99? Yeah, me too. But that type up there, totally trippy, right? I'm looking at these. Shapes of the future, lights of the future. And I'm looking around my house. Nope. None of these shapes or lights. Is it still potentially out there? I'm scared, man.
VI. My choice?
Is no. No to all of these Happy Faces. This is the stuff children's nightmares are made of. Imagine the jeering smiles hanging over on the wall by your bed. Clowns are already universally known as scary. And I don't even know what those things are in pink. But I do know equally as frightening is the combination of these fixtures and that wallpaper. Definitely not keen, dude.
VII. Curl up, Lean back, Lie down!
You can do it all, in the Snuggle Chair! And in your go-go boots, too! Now, I love these things, and my son even has one in his room. But we don't call it a snuggle chair, it's a bean bag, and we just sit on it. My son leaves out the boots.
VIII. Made for fun!
Oh, be still my plastic toy loving heart. If there's anything I love to collect more, besides wine, but you can't really call that a collection because I drink it as it comes in, then I can't think of it. Fisher Price, you had me at mooo. Open that little barn door, trot in the super-jointy cow, and fun it was. I wished I lived in that family play house. Truly I do. In there, it's perfect. A warm fire always glows, and the plants never need watering. They're painted on the wall. I wonder if that would work in my dining room. On your flight, the stewardess is always smiling, and the wheels on the bus keep right on going round and round. Because they're hard plastic, and cannot go flat. And if you can't learn to tell time on that super-sweet music box teaching clock, then you don't deserve to ever really know what time it is. But why is that carny at the ferris wheel so ticked? He must not be digging his gig. Sad-city. -Allison
