Clarissa, left: “Bernadette, honey, I don’t know if you were right about this hat.”
Bernadette, right: “Don’t be silly. It’s terribly fashionable and it makes a statement.”
Clarissa: “The statement it’s making is that I can’t see a damn thing. I’m just looking in the direction of your voice and hoping for the best.”
Bernadette: “You really shouldn’t worry about it. I’d be more concerned that the animal around your neck isn’t quite dead, as it seems to be nibbling on your trendy Gothic carnation.”
Clarissa: “I can’t see that, either. Would you be a dear and make it stop?”
Bernadette: “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly. That would require me to temporarily relinquish my hold on this cryptic box I’m clutching, and that would completely ruin my ensemble. Fashion is performance art, and wrangling livestock is not in my script.”
Clarissa: “I see. Would it be rude of me to suggest that your lack of concern for my personal well-being is coming across as a bit bitchy? What if my accent piece has rabies? It would greatly perturb me if I have to seek medical attention just because you fancy your special box. I would certainly give up my own box if certain situations arose.”
Bernadette: “Yes, dear, we all know that you give up your box quite frequently.”
Clarissa: “I am appalled that you would say that, especially given your own history of box relinquishing. At least the number for my box hasn’t been scrawled on lavatory walls across the city.”
Bernadette: “I sense that I may have underestimated your sensitivity concerning boxes and what one does with them. Perhaps I’ve had too much of the high-octane coffee we’ve been guzzling for hours as we wait for something meaningful to do with our lives. Can we move past it and be friends again?”
Clarissa: “I’m not sure. Now that I ponder this situation, it occurs to me that you are the one who suggested all of the couture choices that are now causing me discomfort and trepidation. I think you have a dark ulterior motive that reeks of unseemliness. Are you purposely making me look wretched just so you and your worn-out box will appear more attractive by default?”
Bernadette: “Perhaps the coffee is buzzing me toward the dark side once again, but I must say I’m surprised you finally connected the dots. I’ve used you for years. All the great fashion icons know that the best way to become a diva is to surround yourself with those who couldn’t put a decent outfit together if their lives depended on it.”
Clarissa: “You are a nasty and vile human being.”
Bernadette: “And you look like a hooker at an outlet mall.”
Brief pause whilst further accusations are considered and the potent coffee we cannot see in this photo cools considerably.
Clarissa: “I suppose one of us should slap the other and stomp away in a rather dramatic fashion.”
Bernadette: “Probably. But it took us forever to get our socks to look just right. We should stay for at least another hour and soak up the compliments that are surely coming our way.”
Clarissa: “Fair enough. Let’s just seethe and quietly hate each other.”
Bernadette: “I’m on it.”
Apparently-alive stole around Clarissa’s neck: “Could one of you pass me the salt? This carnation is a little bland.”
Previously published, tiny changes made. Note: For those comparing notes, the original version of this Past Imperfect simply read “Every once in a while, even the drag queens miss the mark a bit…” I decided to add some extra ingredients.
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
‘Yoo hoo, Darth Vader to Nancy Drew- damn, girl pull your socks up.’
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Clever, thou art.
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🤣
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🙂
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Clarissa hat does look like a fancy-folded napkin at a restaurant. Maybe it is?🤔 That would actually be convenient should the coffee spill, the stole bite, or the bitch slap
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Oh, keen eye. Perhaps Clarissa is more clever than I envisioned, what with designing such a multi-purpose chapeau…
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They both look like hookers at an outlet mall. The socks worry me most.
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And methinks they purchased said socks at the same outlet…
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Those are some very sexy spocks. Half spats, half socks. Not everyone can pull off the look.
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Am I detecting a wee smidge of jealousy, hmm?
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Just a bit.
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Yes, about the socks. [Don’t ask me, I seem to have a thing for the lower appendages.] Surely they are spats?
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My thoughts too.
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Maggie: Perhaps we should discuss your affinity for the lower appendages at a later time, presumably whilst consuming a nice glass of vino at a local bistro…
Claudette: Please join us. It would be festive!
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Those are cloche hats, or “bell” hats. Of course, fashionistas used the French word to describe these hats because, well, who wants to wear a bell on her head? Actually, the Trumpet should wear a bell on his head. Maybe the bong, bong, bong will drive some sense into that waffle-weave that passes for a brain. Or at least drown out the gibberish coming from his mouth.
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When in doubt, always use French words. The lilting quality of the language provides a flair that your words may not otherwise provide. True story.
As for Trump wearing a bell, is there ANYTHING that could fit on his head? After all, his ego is the size of Jupiter…
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The shoe socks greatly disturb me, in what possible universe could they be thought fashionable. The are an affront to an honest sock in all time dimensions.
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I agree completely, there is supreme wrongness with the footwear. On the flip side, I am the last person to ask about fashion. My main driver when considering couture selections? Is it comfortable. If so, we’re done, let’s move on… 😉
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I agree, comfort is now what i seek first, then if it looks good as well that is me sold at the Op Shop 🙂
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I fear I risk remaining an outlier here, but I wish to defend their choice of socks as a fashion choice. Truly, I am saddened the style did not hold up.
Not only are socks warmer than nylons, they make relieving oneself soooo much easier. Plus, they come in such fun colors and options! Why, just the other day I saw socks with the face of Dr. Fauci emblazoned on them, with the words, “flatten the curve!” and another pair – floral with a blue background – that said, “Bitch, I AM relaxed.”
Now tell me honestly, Brian, who wouldn’t want to wear that?
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Fair enough, as I would happily sport both of your recent visions. And truth be told, I’m really not one who should be given any credence when it comes to fashion. As a young gayling, things were different, as I was almost painfully trendy. Now? Meh. I just want to be comfortable, and as long as my loins are covered, we’re good…
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I love socks. I maybe have 100 pairs. When I’m down to my last pair…it’s time to do laundry. LOLOL
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I have a sock fetish as sell. My sock drawer, which is deep and wide, is crammed full of matched little sets. Trouble is, I tend to keep wearing the same 20 or so, which are stuffed into one small, well-used corner. I apparently didn’t need the rest of the options as much as I thought I did, but I’m certainly not going to get rid of them, even if they still have the price tags on them…
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I have two drawers full…dark and light. In the laundry room, I have a special basket for orphans. Some of those pitiful little socks have been there for years. I just can’t…in good conscience..get rid of them, lest they might someday be reunited with their mates. Bwahahahaha!
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LOVE this photo! One of your best stories…
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Thanks, Sheila. I really enjoy it when I stumble across a vintage photo which has just the right hint of oddness that gets me to scribbling my little stories…
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Loving it. And those socks are hilarious. Now all they need is a good downpour to shut them both up. Lol.
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Perhaps a few over-flying pigeons could resolve the matter as well, with a few strategic bombardments… 😉
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