BLOG Post # 1: Why WE Care What Carrie Does..
Me? Well, I’m not going to pour my heart out to you and cry at your feet screaming. “I have a passion for fashion!” I mean I love it, but um.no. Instead let me start with a wee personal anecdote. I’m not 21 yet. I’m a month away, so close yet so far. Smite me, oh Mighty Smiter. Most Tuesday nights I get rejected from Smokes – laughed at, shooed away like some societal outcast. God forbid. Every time those smug student bouncers tell me to scram, I somehow muster the courage to say, “Oh wait, I have a backup ID!” That’s my cue to nonchalantly pull out an old, handy-dandy card of mine that says, “Fashion Police.” Underneath “Fashion Police” you see my officer title, “U.B. Spiffy, Commander in Chic.” The back of the card ever-so-eloquently lists some fashion faux pas, wardrobe crimes – what have you. One bouncer laughs at my gesture, other bouncer starts fuming, Ali goes home. I do what I can, you know? Gotta live a little. Anywho, I’m really no fashion police. Nor do I have a quote “sick obsession” with Sex & the City like all the other girls on this side of the galaxy. But I do think highly of Carrie Bradshaw. She’s into fashion and writing – I mean, girl’s got street cred. Carrie Bradshaw, I salute you. We both like people watching. We both like dressing up. We both like girls’ nights (*cringe* – sorry). We both like throwing our fashion commentary in people’s faces, even if no one’s listening. Since you’ll never make it as Penn’s graduation speaker, I’ll channel your brilliance right here, right now, via this website and glossy computer screen. What would Carrie do? Let’s see.