It’s how they always advise you to dress for weekday errands in the ladies’ mags: Dominatrix on top, bridal shower guest of honor on the bottom. Keep people guessing!
Not for nothing, I also thought the woman behind her was a nun at first glance. Now that I realize she isn’t, I wonder if I will ever truly know happiness again, having had a brief glimpse of what life could have been like if the Nuns of Los Angeles spent part of their days traipsing after former reality show superstars and laughing, against their kindly wills, at their outfits. It was amusing in that alternate universe. I wanted to stay there.