As I said about this on Twitter last night — to steal from myself — she looks like the heroine of a soap opera trying to subtly eavesdrop on her rival AND look fantastic at the same time.
Erica Kane would have worn this to lurk, fabulously, behind a potted plant at The Valley Inn, before heading off to enjoy Prince night at her disco, where she would put into action a plan formulated thanks to the fruits of said eavesdropping whilst dancing. (And by “her disco,” of course I mean the disco she owns, not just one that she frequents. Erica Kane obviously owned a disco in the 70s — until one of her arch enemies opened a rival disco, called The Steam Pit, and shit went down. I am not making that up. I feel like they both burned down at some point? It’s hard to keep it all straight in my head. I have a hard enough time remember who all Erica married.) Clearly, as far as I am concerned, there is no higher compliment in my book than “you look like Erica Kane, lurking behind a potted plant before heading off for a night of dancing and perhaps sweet revenge.” My entire life goal, after all, is to look like Erica Kane, mid-adventure.