This is no time to send in the clones:

In order to help our nation’s leaders avoid critical fashion faux pas, DressRegistry.com recently sent letters to U.S. Senators urging them to register evening gowns they planned on wearing to upcoming inaugural balls.

Yes, there’s a reason for this:

DressRegistry.com was created to help women avoid what happened to First Lady Laura Bush in December 2006 when she and three other women wore the same Oscar de la Renta to a White House gala and then had the event immortalized on the evening news.

And it makes perfect sense to E. M. Zanotti:

I understand this problem, as starlets, drag queens and First Ladies alike have all dealt with the inevitable dress duplicate who not only looks better in the dress, but who also paid less for it upfront, but I tend to think this particular effort is aimed at helping Michelle Obama avoid an Inauguration night disaster wherein a closet Senatorial sci-fi fanatic decides to repeat Michelle’s election night triumph by wearing the Alien birth “after” dress to a low-level function.

You surely remember that triumph, perhaps not fondly.

And those fears, I am convinced, are legitimate: around the Senate these days, everything that isn’t science fiction is fantasy.

After all, it’s a blue suede shoe:

This is “Glint” by Jimmy Choo, which is “inspired by Studio 54.” Must be the metallic studs, right?

Stephanie Simons at Shoetube says this is the ultimate karaoke shoe: “really sweet and made for the stage.” And since, like everyone except Michael J. Fox, she has a bit of Elvis in her, well, this seemed inevitable:

When a girlfriend recently inquired about what I might wear with such a pair, pending my performance of a lifetime (jeans? leggings? a mini skirt?), I replied, “my pompadour.” Translation: big, billowy, Priscilla-inspired hair with a lot of volume and lift at the root.

Even Carl Perkins, who actually wrote “Blue Suede Shoes,” might go for that.

It won’t, however, be me.

At the very least, I distrust that one-size-fits-all strap. And Shoewawa raises other objections:

Very pointy toes seem to be the order of the day with Stella McCartney at the moment, and when I say “very pointy” I mean “toes that look like they could take your eye out”. These two tone pumps are a case in point, and while I’d normally be all over anything in this particular nude/black colourway, the pointed toes and elasticated ankle straps put me off these ones.

If you ask me, not even Helena Christensen can make these look good. It’s $875 at Neiman’s.

How about ten million per shoe?

Wealthy Saudi Hasan Muhammad Makhafa has offered 10 million dollars for one of the shoes thrown by an Iraqi TV journalist at outgoing US President George W. Bush during a press conference in Baghdad on Sunday. Many in the Arab world have hailed the journalist, Montazer al-Zaidi, as a hero and rallies took place in Iraq on Monday calling for his release from custody.

Makhafa told Dubai-based Arabic satellite TV station Al-Arabiya that al-Zaidi’s shoes were “a symbol of freedom not just footwear.”

“They represent a victory for those who have disgraced the Arabs by occupying their lands and killing innocent people,” he said. “For me, one of those shoes has more value than my lands and property. I want to bequest it to my children,” said Makhafa.

Makhafa, who is also an elementary school teacher from the southern Saudi province of Asir, said he has received offers of further cash from fellow tribesmen and other Saudi citizens, should he need it.

Um, Teach, the word is “bequeath.” And American educators are rolling their eyes even now: guy teaches grade school, has millions in discretionary income. Time to fire up Travelocity and price trips to the Middle East.

(From Gates of Vienna via Fausta.)

You’re looking at “Olivia” by Louis Vuitton, an imperfectly-lovely sling that will set you back $680 at eLuxury. The shape is gorgeous, but there’s something seriously askew here:

Colorwise, the concoction works for me — the leaves on the floral print are of a similar earthy hue to the brown cap toe. However, the striped cap toe is incredibly distracting and does not gel with the flowery print. The net effect is a floral pattern that looks like old wallpaper and a cap toe that resembles cardboard paper.

Memo to M. Vuitton: you can do old wallpaper or you can do cardboard, but you can’t do them both in the same shoe.

TV chef Nigella Lawson would never, ever buy a fur coat off the rack.

But:

“Going into a shop and buying a fur coat would be an act of weakness. But if I could go into the woods and kill a bear myself I would wear it proudly as a trophy.”

Given the hostility of Her Majesty’s Government towards weaponry, Ms Lawson would probably have to go into the woods and strangle the bear with her, um, bare hands.

Which still wouldn’t get her off the hook with the usual suspects. A spokesman for the Animal Liberation Front:

“In the past those seen to promote the fur trade have had their homes targeted. Celebrities in fur coats have had red paint thrown at them. This is the kind of action that Nigella may now face.”

Translation: “We’re not actually threatening her, but she shouldn’t be surprised.” Funny how the different manifestations of organized crime all sound the same.

Time was, all you had to do was mention the fuzzy footwear in a crowd and you’d be treated to a brief Olympic-class session of Synchronized Eyeroll. Now I’m not so sure. Stephanie, sixteen:

[R]eally, once you take away the obnoxious, velour-sweatsuit-wearing [connotations], all that Uggs really are are a pair of fuzzy boots that according to other people (honestly, I have never worn a pair) are extremely warm and comfortable. And what’s so horrible about that?

Venomous Kate, over 21:

Oh, I know: thanks to celebs like Pam Anderson, Paris Hilton and Britney Spears pairing their Uggs with sloppy sweatpants, the Australian-born boots have, to many, become a bad fashion choice.

But with the premium merino sheepskin and thick inner fleece providing all that warmth and comfort, I’m willing to take that style risk. (I do the same thing in the summer with Crocs, although I hear that the Ugg boots’ fleece, which keeps feet warm in the winter, helps keep them cool in the summer, too.)

Perhaps a sample of two doth not a movement make, but still: Kind words. For Uggs. (And also, you’ll note, for Crocs.) And the world is not actually juddering on its axis.

Fashionista and snarkmeister Tavi, twelve, explains how she got to where she is:

The three things that got me interested in fashion are all pretty much the anti-fashion. And I don’t mean in the cool Comme des Garçons way. Seventeen magazine, America’s Next Top Model, and the nu rave trend (aka hipster culture and neon colors) were what sort of kickstarted my curiosity in editorial and runway. I know none of these really have anything to do with fashion — Seventeen is mainly composed of a bunch of BS about “a pop of color!”, ANTM is pretty much centered around Tyra and using the word “fierce”, and big-lettered, neon, Henry Holland knock-off tees that say things about Going Green and Peace and Partying worn by people who don’t know they’re wearing a knock-off speaks for itself.

Aside: Who was it who said, “If Booth Tarkington had written Seventeen today, he’d have had to call it Twelve”? I’m thinking Meredith Willson for some reason.

A local store (Mark’s Shoe Room in Edmond, if you’re interested) has been featuring this shoe in its newspaper ads this week, which prompted me to look it up.

This is Violet by Corso Como, an oxford with a three-inch wooden heel and a cutout for your presumably impeccably-varnished big toe. I’ve never quite understood the idea of an open-toed oxford: it’s just enough frivolity to upset the whole Very Serious style of the shoe. I admit, this could be my own personal history talking: I remember a seventh-grade teacher who was fond of oxfords, and I can’t for the life of me imagine her wanting something with a peep-toe. (Then again, the next year, there was another teacher whose preference ran to simple flats that she could step out of at a moment’s notice. I am nothing if not the child of my influences.)

“Violet,” you should know, is not available in violet: besides this mustard color, there are chocolate and black variants. And all of them, apparently, are green:

Ever open a shoebox and find a pamphlet outlining the company’s commitment to the environment and fair labor practices? Neither did we, until we got our Corso Como platforms. Hand-assembled in Brazil (by fairly paid workers in a safe, healthy workplace), the shoes are free of artificial coatings and use leathers that have been treated only with natural vegetable dyes. Boxes are made with recyclable paper — saving around 2,000 trees per year — and a portion of every sale goes to women’s and children’s charities.

This shoe runs about $175; Mark’s is presently having an Anniversary Sale, where everything is 20 to 50 percent off. If you’re not near Edmond, Piperlime has “Violet” for $119.99.

Hmmm. Look who bought an outfit for Sarah Palin:

Ethics disclosure forms recently obtained under the Freedom of Information Act contained this oddity: $300 in clothes and footwear from … CNBC.

Turns out that the network’s Maria Bartiromo sat down with the Alaska governor in August, just days before she became John McCain’s running mate. The interview about oil, energy and drilling was conducted in Palin’s Anchorage office, where she wore her own suit and high heels, according to CNBC sources. The producers asked to continue the interview in the oil fields; since Palin didn’t have outdoor gear at the office, a CNBC assistant raced out to buy a jacket and hiking shoes for the location shoot.

The network didn’t give it another thought, but Palin dutifully reported it as a gift on her disclosure form.

The only surprising aspect of this, if you ask me, is that she didn’t have a set of outdoor duds hanging in the closet in that Anchorage office. You never can tell when you might need that sort of thing.

(Via Romenesko.)

The story behind this boot:

Sandra Canselier, Coclico designer, is a French expatriate living in the United States. Since she couldn’t vote for Obama herself, she decided to name a boot after the president-elect.

Which she did. Here’s the pitch:

Coclico’s Obama boot was designed with high-fashion looks in mind. The shaft sports curved seams up one side and a hidden zipper entry on the other. The rounded, peaked toe works with the thick, tapered heel for a comfortable fit and stylish silhouette. Best of all, the vegetable-tanned leather will patinate over time — making this boot look even better with wear.

This color is called “bruciato”; there’s also a “piombo,” a sort of mottled grey. The heel is 3½ inches. The price for either variant is $535 at Coclico’s own Web site or at Amazon.com. I’m assuming you’d be able to get these with the help of some future stimulus check.

One woman’s “expensive” is another woman’s “investment,” I suppose. To get a better grip on these terms, I turn to Plumcake’s explanation of the hierarchy of the shoe biz:

“Inexpensive” (under $100) you have your lower-end department store shoes, Payless, Target, Wal-Mart; teetering on the upper level of inexpensive is Nine West, DSW etc. I do not say it is impossible to find an investment shoe at this level, but I have not come across one.

“Designer” ($100-300) will generally get you decently-made department store house brands and your entry-level luxury lines (Kate Spade, Tory Burch and Juicy Couture); there are some excellent values to be had in this range, particularly if you pay attention to construction and not the label. If all your shoes come from this category, pat yourself on the back, you’re doing well. Stuart Weitzman, Delman, and Cole Haan are reliable heavy hitters in this price range.

“Premium Designer” ($300-600) is where the committed shoe junkie lives. In this category your shoes will be crafted in Italy, France or Spain of excellent materials. Most of the designers who occupy the “Ultra Premium” category have a home base here including most non-runway shoes from Manolo, Chanel, Dior, Jimmy Choo and Prada.

“Ultra Premium” (over $600) is the shoe as art form. These are often made of exotic skins or feathers that are no longer allowed to be collected (they get them from the archives of old feather houses); these shoes will be limited edition and usually available in boutique only.

Your mileage, of course, may vary. I suspect that there will be a certain amount of eye-rolling on my side of the gender divide; I can say only that most of my shoes these days cost right around $100.

Just what the world was waiting for: Chuck Taylors with sequins, fercrissake.

Actually, at least some Converse retailers have been averse to calling this a Chuck Taylor; it’s officially the “Electronic Sequins OX Low Sneaker.” “OX,” one presumes, stands for “Oxford.” I’m puzzled by the whole premise of electronic sequins: since the shoe doesn’t have a power supply, so far as I can tell, the term must refer to the method by which the sequins are attached, as distinguished from the usual sewing or riveting or however the hell sequins are emplaced these days. I’ve seen department-store comforters that boasted “electronic quilting,” or some such nonsense, and the one I actually bought was notable chiefly for the speed with which its side seams unraveled. So I’m not exactly sanguine about the possibilities of electronic sequins. I suppose, though, it’s got to be better than electronic rhinestones, an installer for which is no doubt being prepped for its infomercial even as we speak. Meanwhile, if you head over to Converse’s Web site, you’ll find this proudly announced as a Chuck, and the price is an equally-proud $84.99. Oh, and there are four other colors besides magenta.

Style Spy, for her part, is down with the sparkle:

Suddenly, your trip to the hardware store to buy little hickymajiggers to hang up the latest family portrait isn’t a chore — it’s an opportunity to sparkle! Do you have a dog? Trust me, your dog wants you to wear these when you take him for a walk.

He also wants steak.

Thank Oscar de la Renta for this one: you’re looking at outgoing Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice at the Glamour Women of the Year Awards, last Monday at Carnegie Hall, New York. Oscar has done right by Condi in the past: on her 50th birthday, Sir David Manning, Her Majesty’s Ambassador to the US, organized a surprise birthday party for her and arranged for a red Oscar de la Renta gown to be waiting for her when she arrived. Even George W., not much of a party person, stayed up late for that one. I am pleased to note that this time around, arguably her weakest point — her too-often-uninteresting hair — was properly addressed. I haven’t been able to track down her shoes yet. (Photo by Lucas Jackson of Reuters.)

Oh, and Glamour managed something of a coup: they got Hillary Clinton into a gown. For the time being, I’d just as soon not speculate as to whether she’s going to be the incoming Secretary of State.

This is D Grin 27, which sounds like a pet for THX 1138 if they allowed you to have pets, but which is in fact a moccasin by Italian shoemaker Geox. The horse-bit sort-of-buckle is nifty, and as do all Geox shoes, this one keeps the moisture away from your feet by wicking it to the outside through tiny holes in the outsole. It’s black here, but it can also be had in beige, and it’s $124 from Zappos. The Manolo describes these as “sweetly sensible,” which is not at all a bad thing to be.

You’ve probably by now heard of LibraryThing, in which random folks upload their book collections for the benefit of all. The last time I checked their Zeitgeist page, they reported 548,000 members with 33.2 million books, about sixty books per member.

As of this writing, nobody at Fantastic Toe is yet reporting sixty pairs of shoes. The principle is the same, though: random folks upload their shoe collections for the benefit of all. And their Zeitgeist page is called “Collective Wisdom”; at the moment, they have 308 pairs of shoes on display. (Labels most represented: Stuart Weitzman, Guess? and Steve Madden.) The operator of this site is Dillweed Productions, Inc., which I mention here just because I like the idea of something called Dillweed Productions, Inc.

Peek-A-Boob Strips (I only have to type it once, thank heaven) are transparent double-stick strips that perform the following tasks:

Eliminate that gap between buttons on your favorite shirts, hide bra straps, hold up strapless tops, secure revealing necklines, or just a quick fix for a hemline.

Not inconsiderable virtues, those. The little pink tin comes with 30 such strips for $8.89; once you’ve used them up, the manufacturer will happily refill your tin with 60 for the same price. And besides, duct tape is just unsightly.

(Field trial at TheDailyStyleScout.com.)

O·P·I, the firm that invented nail-polish colors like “Blushingham Palace,” “Kennebunk Port” and “I’m Not Really a Waitress,” has introduced la collection de France, and March samples one of the new offerings:

I bought You Don’t Know Jacques untested because it was, on sight, the ugliest color of polish I’d ever seen. I was fascinated.

The term “mushroomy gray-brown,” in fact, came into play. But then:

You already know how this comes out, don’t you? Jacques is gorgeous. Against my ppp* skin, and with three coats, it’s a muted, slightly grayish brown cream — the color of hot cocoa with a hint of steam over it. People stopped me all week to comment on it.

* Pale Porcelain Princess. I think.

In the process of denouncing “mantyhose,” as any rational person would, Fillyjonk lets slip a technical aspect of the, um, garment:

They really don’t cover any figure flaws. “Control top” really isn’t. It’s mainly a discomfort device aimed at preventing you from wanting to eat while you’re wearing it.

As they say in those idiotic Cox Digital ads, “What else don’t I know?”

More precisely, she put on the Rodriguez: specifically, Narciso Rodriguez, from whose fall ‘08 collection this natty little number is taken. (Picture swiped from USA Today.)

I’m not quite sure this was the ideal dress for her. I love the colors, and the length is just about perfect for her, but while the black crossover whittles her waist nicely, the red zone beneath makes her look a bit on the chunky side, which she isn’t. I suspect that this looked better on a rack, assuming it actually spent any time on a rack.

And maybe I’m reading too much into this photo here, but combine her stance and her facial expression, and to me it can mean only one thing: “These [expletive deleted] shoes are killing me.”

Addendum: Virginia Postrel also questions the shoes “or at least the way she stands in them.”

You’re looking at “Slinky,” from the Taryn by Taryn Rose line, and it might even be possible to slink in these: they’re light (seven ounces), not so high (2½-inch heel), and apparently generously padded despite their svelteness. I knew nothing about this line, so I plunged into the Web and turned up this tale:

When most orthopedic surgery residents finish a 36-hour shift, there’s nothing they want more than a good night’s sleep. Not Taryn Rose. “I was known to leave the hospital, go straight to Neiman Marcus, and speed shop the last 15 minutes they were open,” says the surgeon turned shoe designer, now CEO of her own $20 million company. Rose loved wearing heels to the hospital but searched fruitlessly for stylish shoes that wouldn’t destroy her feet.

Toward the end of her residency, Rose began to see her fashion quandary as a market opportunity. At first, she fretted about what her peers and family would think. She hailed not only from a conservative field but from a conservative family, which expected her to follow in the footsteps of her physician father. But Rose felt she was onto something. “I feared regret more than I feared failure,” she recalls.

I’m impressed. The Taryn by Taryn Rose line is, they say, “a bit more whimsical” than the company’s first offerings; it’s also priced markedly lower. “Slinky” runs $205, but I’ve seen it as low as $85.

Belhoste has kind words for this:

These may just replace my current winter booty choice in the upcoming months. I am not sure how well they will stand up to the ice and snow, but I don’t care! A girl’s gotta have some stand out shoes for the grey months. They are from United Nude and they are definitely the cutest boots I have seen in a while.

From the official pitch:

A smooth cup shaped heel integrates with the upper and gives the shoe a vintage feel with a modern twist. The upper is made with a combination of genuine leather and canvas with a side zipper all lined in leather. Also available in a slouched boot variation.

For $280, it better not slouch.

In the Guardian, Hannah Betts defends high heels:

Flat shoes may be pragmatic, but they do not come freighted with any beauty, mythology, or exotica. Heels are the totemic object craved by want-to-be women, be it the little girl, the transvestite, or the legion of tottering teens for whom no weekend metamorphosis is complete without a little unelevating elevation.

Heels supply entry-level vampishness, are the object by which constructed, faux-femininity is bestowed. My own attitude is that of the playful homovestite — a woman who gets a kick out of hamming up her femininity — content to be an object of the male gaze so long as I get to feel in control of matters, and give just as good as I get.

Feminism counts for nothing if it is not a guarantee of choice. And while I choose to pursue politics proper in a state of high seriousness, so I see no contradiction for the politics of dress to be pursued in a spirit of high camp. What heels inhibit in terms of speed, they restore by means of swagger.

“Homovestite”? I always figured the opposite of “trans” was “cis,” but then I spent a lot of time in chem lab, and apparently “cisvestite” means something else entirely.

Meanwhile, while Ms Betts is fine in three or four inches, she isn’t about to try out Christian Louboutin’s new 8-inch heels:

Four inches and a girl’s going places, eight and she will have difficulty merely rising to her feet.

Doubtless, fashion itself will prove the great leveller. Just as the corset was eventually spurned as anything other than an occasional fetish by modish women keen to dance, cycle, and make strides into the workplace, so the 8 in heel will deservedly be shunned. Women of the world, you have nothing to lose but your bunions, hammertoes and stress fractures. Best of all, I could pass for a sensible-shoe girl in saying so.

I’m not so sure it will be shunned, but what do I know?

By judicious effort, or lack thereof, I have managed to stay off the Victoria’s Secret mailing list for pretty much my entire lifetime. This is, as Martha says, a Good Thing, since multiple images of young women in overwrought underwear do nothing for my sense of well-being. And besides, I subscribe to Lileks’ Theory of Lingerie:

Let us be frank about the purpose of lingerie… It is not normal clothing. It exists for one purpose: to be, eventually, visible for a very short time. If it is visible for a very long time — and I am trying to be delicate about this — then it is not doing its job.

Still, readers point me toward VS once in a while, and usually it’s for something absurdly expensive and scarcely even wearable. Something, in fact, like this:

Our All New Miracle Bra gets the black tie treatment from celebrity jeweler Martin Katz in this exclusive, one-of-a-kind creation for Victoria’s Secret. Set with 3,575 black diamonds, 117 certified 1-carat round diamonds and 34 rubies, with a pièce de résistance of two lavish black diamond drops totaling 100 carats. Designed for maximum cleavage enhancement and adorned with nearly 3,900 stunning gems, it’s the ultimate fantasy gift. Total carat weight: 1500 ct. $5,000,000.

I think I can resist that piece. And as my correspondent says, “Doesn’t appear to be very comfortable. Not to mention heavy.”

Carlos Santana calls this one “Pompous,” and I’m not sure why: “Exude major confidence,” says the blurb, but major confidence generally doesn’t translate into pomposity, unless you get careless and let it. This is a shade called “Steele”; there are also black/grey and black/”bordo” variations. There’s elastic to hold it in place, four inches to add to your height, and as will no doubt be pointed out to me, yet another peep-toe.

Come to think of it, Shoewawa has an idea about that name:

Carlos Santana has called these shoes “Pompous”. Given their similarity to those Versace t-bars I’ve lusted over all year, I suspect Donatella Versace may be able to come up with some other words to describe them, but of course, that’s neither here nor there…

And Carlos is charging about one-eighth as much as Versace: you can get “Pompous” for a mere $79. There’s some major confidence right there.

About time someone came out for A Woman’s Right to Shoes:

I must say I’ve never been much of a foot fetishist (and please, any members of Foot Fetishists For Obama: no email blitzes pointing out what a pedophobe I am). Nevertheless, since the investigative research units of our major media operations developed their peculiar obsession with Sarah Palin’s shoes, I’m beginning to enjoy the kinky frisson of it all. This Chicago Sun-Times photo gallery is especially impressive.

And, by the way, if you think it’s easy photographing Governor Palin’s feet all day when you could be out investigating ACORN, these pictures are taken at some pretty severe angles. At least when they’re with Obama, they only have to throw themselves at his feet metaphorically.

On the other hand, it’s far easier photographing Joe Biden’s footwear because it’s generally in his mouth.

I just wish he hadn’t said “kinky.” (”Frisson” I suppose I can live with.)

The Instant Man has trouble finding shoes:

My brother buys shoes over the Internet. I have a hard enough time finding a comfortable fit in the store. I guess it all depends on your feet. Mine are small and delicate (14EE) and that may have something to do with it . . . .

As one fourteen double-E to another, Professor, let me pass along two words: “New Balance.”

And maybe I should look into this Zappos thing.

Donna wants to try something different for Halloween:

I have an idea for a costume. I can dress up as…

Ayn Rand!

What do you think? Or is that just too weird?

I see one potential problem, but only the one.

First, let’s look at Rand herself:

(Photo from Facets of Ayn Rand, memoirs by Mary Ann Sures and Charles Sures, published in 2001 by the Ayn Rand Institute Press.)

I don’t think Donna would have any problem pulling off this middle-1950s look, but she’s twelve inches taller than Rand and will have to make whatever adjustments are appropriate.

I yield to no one in my fondness for strappy sandals, as I may have mentioned before, but this is ridiculous:

This is “Nocciola,” from the Salvatore Ferragamo fall collection. Says Shoewawa:

I haven’t bothered counting the number of straps on them, but let’s just say there’s a whole lot of them. They sit atop a sculpted, lucite platform, which will help make you look like your heel is balancing on nothing at all, and I think they’re definitely what you could call “statement shoes” don’t you? Would you wear them? Well, they’re interesting to look at, but I don’t like them nearly enough to want to pay $995 for them, but if you do, you can find them at Neiman Marcus.

Seventeen, not counting the one with the buckle on it, or the ones that make up the slingback.

In fairness to the family Ferragamo, Obsessed With Shoes actually likes this wedge, though there’s the question of whether it should have been in the Fall Collection in the first place, it being so springy and/or summery and all.

Fashionista’s Natalie Hormilla plays around with the iPhone spell-checker:

[W]hen we texted “chanel” to a friend, our iPhone turned it into “Chanel.” Impressed, we tried some more, and learned that iPhone has some eclectic taste.

iPhone knows to correct / capitalize: Chanel, Jacobs (but not Marc), Burberry, Stella McCartney, Alexander Wang, Alberta (but not Ferretti), Calvin Klein, Versace, Dior, Stuart (but not Jill), Halston, Hermes (though, in fairness, it also knows “Aphrodite”), Posen (but it turns “zac” into “sac”), Erin (but not Fetherston).

But nobody’s perfect:

It did not know: Chloe, Gucci, Prada, Louis or Vuitton, Vogue, ELLE (in fact, it turned “ELLE” into “role”), Visionaire, Matthew or Williamson, Martin Margiela, Coach, Balmain, Balenciaga, Lacroix, Yves Saint Laurent, Mizrahi, Galliano, Gaultier, and it turned Hedi into “Jedi”, though we could go on (we did).

My mind’s wandering to the idea of “Jedi Slimane,” one-half rank above Padawan, and restricted to very thin would-be Knights. (Does this have anything to do with the Trial of Flesh?)