Somehow, in yesterday’s roundup of this event, I missed that Hilary did not arrive and leave in the same thing. I don’t know HOW or WHY this ensemble could possibly have flown under my radar; I can only assume at that moment in time, my radar was in the shop, having caught fire from the collective beauty of Nico Tortorella and Peter Hermann, and the daydream of Peter coming over with an armload of his beloved Persil for some sexy laundry shenanigans. And I will need to go to that place again. I will need to break my radar out of self-preservation, because if Hilary takes many more steps, her duff is going to fall out.
