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Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Who Is Jeremy Scott and Why Is He Torturing Me?

I consider myself a foodie. Not only do I love to cook and eat, but I love reading about food, experimenting with interesting recipes and ingredients, shopping at specialty markets, (oh, how I love Cleveland's landmark West Side Market!) and watching The Food Network while harping on the way the various FoodTV people do things. (Love Alton Brown and The Barefoot Contessa; hate Giada Di Laurentiis and Emeril "The Ewok".) In Ohio's frustrating growing season and my ridiculously small yard, I lovingly raise herbs and then, when I just can't use them all fresh, I dry them, pesto them, freeze them, and even give seminars locally on everything I know about them.

Having said all of that, it is still a struggle--a stretch, even--for me to comprehend or even appreciate this:
Yes, those are ice cream cones on her boobs. It is a dress made to look as if someone charged at her bodice with ice cream cones aimed at her breasts and stuck them on, allowing the vanilla ice cream to melt down and cover her torso. But wait, for Jeremy Scott, our designer, is not done yet. Not by a long shot.



Because here is no, not a mermaid! This is sort of the opposite of Melted Torso; here, we have the scoops intact on the breasts, all nicely...pert. And pink. Instead, the entire body is the cone. I have no idea what the all-encompassing tutu is supposed to represent. I have never had an ice cream cone with a gigantic Starlight mint around it. (Nor have I ever had two scoops of booby-flavored sherbet outside the cone, either, but I suppose I'm just being picky now.)
When I was a kid, I was crazy about those Hostess cupcakes: you know, the chocolatey ones with the cream center and the layer of fudgy icing on top with the white squiggles? I always peeled off the fudge icing for last, then dug out the cream filling, then ate the cake, then picked off the squiggles one by one, then rolled up the fudge and ate it. I haven't had one in ages, but I would still eat them this way. Until this dress completely ruined the whole thing for me. Now whenever I see Hostess Cupcakes, I will also see this dress and think of picking at nipples. There, I said it. I hope Jeremy Scott is happy now that he has intruded upon my childhood in such an unseemly way.

Finally, aside from the whole food thing, let me just say this. I really, really appreciate men with longer hair. I am sick of the skinhead look for men. I like men with hair. (On their heads, not on their backs so much. Let's not wander into that territory now.) A man with a romantic, longer hairstyle will automatically hold my gaze longer than any other male in the viewing area. Does Jeremy Scott try to spoil this for me as well? Let me let you decide:

Aside from the obvious question: "WTF is this outfit supposed to be, anyway?", I could weep. This is one extremely attractive male. With lovely, long, romantic locks. Jeremy Scott--WHY?!

Jeremy Scott, did your mother constantly nag at you to stop playing with your food? Were you sick of hearing about starving children in Third World countries? Do you have male pattern baldness, Jeremy Scott? Are you playing a joke on Fashion Week? Did you go to the fabric store too late to score any good material? Are you vision-impaired? Do you hate all your models? Is this a commentary on the bourgeois relationship of middle-class Americans and their need for instant gratification as manifested through fast food? Huh, Jeremy Scott? Because, whatever it is, it's just really ugly. So there.

*thanks to Foodgoat (see my links list) for the heads up on the work of Mr. Scott

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