A Fabulous Party--In Brooklyn, Of All Places!

DAHLINGS -

I am still not quite myself, but nonetheless, I simply could not RESIST when I received the following invitation:



Deb Malkin has dared to open a shop in these troubled economic times, and I say BRAVA! Yes, we sell similar merchandise in some ways, but as I have written before, a rising tide lifts all boats. And the shop is in Brooklyn, where my high heels have barely, if ever, trod. Nevertheless, I gave the order to my limo driver to take me there!

Well, it was quite the evening! Your faithful correspondent usually goes to soirees where Krug is flowing and the male guests are in black tie. However, this was a walk on the wild side if ever there was one! Male guests, when one could spot them, most times turned out to be female.

My wardrobe choice was a cobalt blue suit from the 1960s with a sheared beaver collar dyed to match (it was, after all, 7 degrees outside). As for the more obviously female guests, my beloved readers, they were almost entirely plus sized, and it was an absolute SEA of cleavage! Deb herself was wearing a tartan-trimmed bustier skirt combination that had been custom-made for her, and her bounteous bosom was certainly on show. I brought a hostess gift of eight polyester maxi-dresses...it seemed the only appropriate thing, don't you think?

Being a woman of broad mind and loose morals, I was not thrown for a moment by being probably one of the few heterosexuals there (and as my long-time readers know, I am ready to cross over if it means a particularly lucrative sale). In fact, it was delightful to be surrounded by large, lovely ladies in beautiful clothes from all eras, proudly showing what they had! Take THAT, Karl Lagerfeld!

So I drank sparkling apple juice served by a handsome woman in an impeccable suit and tie, nibbled on some nibbles. One friend who was in attendance was the ever-witty Stephanie Schroeder, my publicist, and our friend Lisa Haas, a playwright. However, they were fatigued and left before the show started.

They missed a treat! There were not enough chairs, but fortunately for moi, my height proves to be an advantage in these situations. Les danseuses were, with one exception, ecydiasts (look it up) from the old school of burlesque. World Famous BOB (not certain why her last name is all caps, but celebrities are funny that way) is called that for a reason...it was as if one was watching Gypsy Rose Lee crossed with The Lady Bunny.

Photo by Sara Macel

There were also go-go dancers of considerable heft, and a belly dancer from Washington, DC who proved that you don't have to be built like Madonna to shake it and not break it. Oh, mon Dieu, did I just write that? One believes one did. Her name is Miasia, and the photo does not do her justice! Her website is http://www.miasia.org/.

Now that I am feeling slightly better, you shall be hearing from me more often.

Ciao,

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

It's Official - Oprah Winfrey ADORES Breasts!

Dahlings –

Far be it for moi to criticize anyone else’s lifestyle (although if you dare criticize mine, beware! As it says below, I have efficient and nasty lawyers).

However, the hypocrisy of that Oprah Winfrey person. Yes, I know, she's rich, she pulled herself up by her anklestraps, she insists on being on every cover of that damn magazine urging women to "be the best you can be" or "build strong bodies 12 ways" or "Join the Army" or whatever it is. Etc. etc. etc.

So, in this day and age, why bother to pretend that you are a player of the pink oboe, when it is transparently obvious that you would rather eat the dark oyster? (Note I did not say “bearded clam.”)

My personal assistant had the television on this afternoon when she was supposed to be steaming my fabulous outfits. I'm going to the Marc Jacobs soiree at Gotham Hall this evening, and I need to have a selection of devastating garments handy.

Before I had a chance to discipline the foolish lumpkin, the sight on the plasma screen rooted me to the spot. Oprah Winfrey, delightedly standing behind a half-naked woman and fondling her breasts!

“I didn’t know Oprah had a side career in soft-corn pornography,” I thought. Then, I realized Ms. Winfrey was ostensibly fitting women for brassieres on her television program.

Perhaps it was the manner in which her hands caressed each woman’s poitrine, big, small and in between. The way she lovingly fondled the curve of the cups of the lingerie. Perhaps it was the rapturous gleam in her eye. But Oprah was enjoying this far too much!

Suddenly those 'rumors' about her friendship with Gayle seemed quite plausible.

And I’m certain that the participants on the show enjoyed themselves as much as Ms. Winfrey, if the eagerly screamed “THANK YOU, OPRAH!” s from the half-naked women were anything to go by. Who knows what happened when the cameras were turned off? Probably most of these women hadn’t been felt up so well since high school. (Although there were so many women, one has to admire Oprah’s stamina.)

The rest of the program was the usual women’s’ kerfuffle, how to find the perfect pair of jeans and such. (Using size 10 women as examples--of COURSE size 10 women can find perfect jeans! My God! )

But I digress. Ms. Winfrey examined each woman’s derriere with a scrutiny that was quite discomfiting.

Yes, we all know she’ll never marry that eunuch Steadfast or Stiffpole or whatever his name is. If only she wouldn’t keep blowing smoke in the media’s eyes by pretending to blow Stiffpole. Come out, come out, Oprah! Then we will all know you are being your best possible you, as you like to say.

Must dress! Kisses!

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Today's Fashion Thought:
We all know there is nothing like a dame. I've always liked the word dame. I hope someday I will be remembered as such: “She was a great dame," "She was one tough dame,”
I think of a dame as a gal who knows who she is. Who can be tough when she needs to be, but knows when mercy is called for.
Great in bed. Feminine without being prissy.
From "Damn Good Vintage," by the Zaftig Goddess