I have to say, I am sort of looking forward to this season of The City. If only because I know at least once per Monday night, I will get to turn and ask a houseplant, “WHAT IS WHITNEY WEARING?”
Like when THIS shows up:
For the love of sweet Italian sausages, tell me that is a joke. Tell me that old Whitney here got stuck overnight in a Chico’s — kind of like in Richard Peck’s seminal 80s teen novel, Secrets of the Shopping Mall, but with potentially fewer zombies — and was forced to fashion an appropriately youthful ensemble out of the sale rack before she was allowed to regain her freedom. Tell me she lost a bet. Tell me this is a terrible, terrible gag being played on her by someone at MTV who had to stoop to the use of hardcore, mind-altering drugs to pull it off. Tell me this season focuses on a surprisingly hard-hitting and grim storyline in which MTV decides Whitney must pay for her own apartment and clothing, and ergo she ends up homeless living in Central Park by episode three, forced to steal outfits from tourists she knocks out with an empty bottle while they’re picnicking. TELL ME THIS WASN’T A CONSCIOUS DECISION ON HER PART.