Ten minutes ago I saw a pumpkin faced, crippled, bearded lady on Spring and Crosby raise her eyebrows at me, and then realized—shut the hell up that’s Marc Jacobs. (Consider that my mass text to all my friends that Marc Jacobs ‘kinda ‘sorta not really at all cruised me). Anyways, why is he orange? What is wrong with these fashion designers? Have they all bought Caribbean Islands and moved them into their penthouses? Marc Jacobs—you’re orange. Michael Kors—I watch you on Project Runway and you make me think the cameraman forgot to white balance the camera. What is wrong with you people? Someone should slap you guys in the face if it wasn’t a hate crime.
Okay, fine. Whatevs. I’m just bitter that a single tan in New York City is $28.00. I’m coping.
Donatella Versace—I adore you galore. But, really now. You look like you died two years ago and no one told you to go lay down.
You're orange and you look like Alexis Arquette after a long night at The Cock.
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