Methinks somebody is feeling a wee attention-starved.
But what I can’t figure out is why. Every fashion critic trips over him or herself to lavish his New York show with praise, even if it’s on the brink of insanity. He modeled nude for his own fragrance ad, with a giant liquor bottle over his swizzle stick. He has a SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS tattoo. WE’RE LOOKING. WE PROMISE. WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE. You don’t need to tog up like the Village People’s personal Pepto supplier, and certainly not in that abismol –(OH YES I DID) — Polo-style sack (with Wicked Witch of the West shoes of his own design). Is it 1982? Is “Thriller” about to come out? Is some girl named Madonna sewing a wedding dress and crimping her hair? IS ABBA ABOUT TO BREAK UP?!? If you can stop stomach ailments, Marc, then surely you can stop that.