I realized tonight that I kind of wish Brad Paisley’s shtick was to wear paisley everywhere. Mostly because paisley gets no action anymore. I have a soft spot for paisley ever since one of the small spare rooms in the house of my youth had gray paisley wallpaper and, I think, matching curtains. It came that way when we bought it, and it was the lowest priority for redecorating because its only purpose was to hold a superfluous twin bed and a telephone, so it was a glorified phone booth, and we called it The Paisley Room and it stuck and so we could never have re-papered it because The Paisley Room by any other name would not be as fun unless it was an ACTUAL phone booth. (Except we had one of those, too, one of the old red English ones that are so awesome. It was in the backyard. I have no idea how or why the previous owners had it, but I wish we’d taken it with us when we left. Apparently that’s not terribly practical, but aside from being bitchin’, it would make the GREATEST time-out shed for the twins.)
Anyway, now that I have thoroughly bored the paisley out of you with my anecdotes, here are the Paisleys:
That is demonstrably NOT paisley. It is also hilarious. And as for Kimberly, it amuses the hell out of me that she vamped up her dress with some elbow gloves. They look like she is planning to cat-burgle someone at a gala while he hides in the bushes and uses his shoes to reflect warning lights up to her through the window, because he’s old-school and a text message is just too easy.