This evening as I was driving from Columbus back to my hometown of Chesapeake, Oh, the song "Glamorous" by Fergie came on the radio. Since my CD player is broken and I couldn't listen to my all-time-fav "Baby Makin' Music" mix, I stayed tuned against my will. As I sang along in my car voice--which just so happens to resemble Celine Dion's voice--I thought, what the hell happeed to GLAMOUR? Since it's 2010 and every word's definition is somewhat arguable, we'll go with a loose definition created by yours truly. "A head-to-toe look of class, flash, luxury and elegance." I wanted to add "Barbie-esque" in there, but I'm creating this for the masses and let's be honest, some people have a vendetta against her. Anyways, what's so wrong with volumous curls, bold make-up, glitter everything and a clutch full of confidence for finishing touches? It sounds like an average night out for most, but who has actually gone an entire night without being called a slut, baby prostitute, Barbie, Snookie, etc etc etc--by the ultra grunge no-make-up wearing hipsters sitting in a booth enjoying their Jack and Cokes. DISCLAIMER: I'm so into vintage, but I'm also into showering. Thus, this is not a rant about how I feel prosecuted for being fabulous. It's actually a resurrection of all things GLAM. I'm so sick of having to dress down just because that's how everyone else will be dressed or because someone asked, "Are you going to Prom?" Just because prom is the only time you whitened your teeth, curled your hair, wore fake eyelashes and strutted your shit in stilettos, does not mean that it's okay for you to snere your unglossed lips at ladies who dreamed about Cinderella's glass slippers until they were 12. So, the predictable call to action would certainly be to put on a freakum dress, sing Toni Braxton on stage during a non-karaoke night out and give an unnaturally large hair whip to anyone who isn't mildly impressed.
xoxo
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