Yesterday I spent 30 minutes at my dry cleaners.
It wasn’t because I particularly like being exposed to harsh chemicals for long periods of time but the guy in front of me had a lost comforter. They found the comforter cover, however. It was a scary motif of Oz-esque monkeys wearing early American period clothing. You know, cutaway jackets and knickers with black buckled shoes? They were frolicking in what appeared to be a tropical Garden of Eden. At least that’s my opinion because those grinning monks looks pretty stoked about being there even though their outfits looks ridiculous. I suspect this piece is from the Tommy Bahama on Acid collection.
To distract me from the visual assault of the monkey paradise, I picked up a fashion mag and thumbed through it because I like to torture myself and I ran across an article entitled: Get the Body You Were Born to Have.
Okay… so if I was a born to have a particular body, why don’t I have it now? I mean, wouldn’t it be my birthright? Why do I have to go “get” it?