Now I’m hungry.
I’ve decided Kim Kardashian and Kanye are going to take the cultish furor around their coupling and turn it into an actual cult.
It will involve members building her a pedestal out of their own donated money, while she stands atop it, robes flowing, shouting, “Kanye has, like, the best taste.” When we need punishing, she will rip out a chunk of what they built and spend it on high-necked, skin-tight maxi-dresses from Balmain with more embroidery than your grandmother’s living room, or jumpsuits that make her look squat. And the first commandment will be, “Like, no corset should hold that which was given to you, because like, right?” Sometimes Kanye will come over and ask how he’s influenced anybody today, and he will send forty tweets for each person who can’t answer. It’s going to be great.
Well, at least her lipstick is nice.
But the rest of it is, as Jess said, fashion oatmeal: lumpy, bland, unappetizing, and like homework to consume.