Traci Fugham


There is so much to discuss about this particular ensemble that I don’t even know where to start. Julie Andrews, of course, told us all to start at the very beginning, but despite the fact that I defer to her on many things (like whether or not to used coded whistles to call for people), today I think I will start at the end:

Oh, Traci Bingham. It’s HARD to make the back of your hair look as good as the front. I get it. Also, is that quasi-snakeskin you’re wearing? Turn around and let me look at you.

ARRRRRRRRRRGH. That’s….kind of…you’re….WOW. Okay. Okay, sure. Sometimes you just feel like…whatever you’re feeling here. Scaly, but in need of ventilation? Okay. It happens to the best of us. Squish those suckers down in good health! But wait! What’s that I hear? I should take a look at the rest of the dress? Okay. I pray you’re talking about a wee little flap to cover that wayward nip….

…what can I say? There are literally no words in the human vocabulary that can express my horror/glee at the fact that you have gone out wearing a dress with a giant detachable ruffle, which you, at some point, removed and presumably shoved into your purse. I am terrified, and yet thrilled to the very marrow of my bones. That is all. I have no further witticism. I am so confused/excited. I’m going to go lie down with a washcloth over my forehead and attempt to parse my own emotions. Farewell.

react: