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Prima Gallerina Does Fashion

Tonight, after eight and a half hours of work, I mosied my fashionista ass down to our local pedway mall for a fashion show/arts fundraiser/dance thing in support of a local modern dance company and one of my co-workers who was walking in the show (for those of you not in the know - or those of you who don't watch America's Next Top Model - "walking" means she was modeling). It was kind of pretty and I felt all important with my complimentary ticket, glass of sparkling champagne and the rose petals scattered at my feet. The dancing was great, the clothes alternated between absolutely hideous (think black garbage bag dress and mid-calf length leggings, ick!) and fabulous (a wonderful brown knit suit cut in all the right places). Maybe it is my obsession with all things top model and project catwalk but I was really struck by how completely uncomfortable and lost most of the models appeared. I could just hear Tyra Banks and Miss Jay whispering in my ear, "That's not fierce! A model needs to be fierce!" and unfortunately, few of them lived up to my television-driven expectations. I found myself internally critiquing everything from the vacant expression in their eyes to the awkward walking in stilettos to the mostly terrible choice of music (Born to be Wild). The highlight of the night was this funny art thing when a group of men came out and did a choreographed dance down the catwalk, all clad in paper skirts. It sounds crazy, but it had me grinning so wide that my teeth hurt. The best part was seeing Carlos, the owner of a local Italian deli and likely among the most colourful men in the city, bouncing up and down in a pink paper skirt, a wrapped sausage in his hand, his jerry-curl mullet bouncing up and down in the late afternoon breeze. It was priceless and well worth the hour of otherwise mediocre performances and fashion.

Afterwards we all sauntered into the store that was sponsoring the fashion show and I deigned to imagine that I might find a cute scarf or hat to add to my cute little fall wardrobe. My head spun when I saw the insane prices - $120 for a scarf! A scarf! That is about $100 more then I would ever spend on a scarf given that at the places I currently shop at, $120 could likely buy me three shirts, a dress and a sweater (a bit of an exaggeration but close). So, like the classy gal I am, I guzzled a few glasses of the cheap champagne and left, all the while sneezing from the (likely) expensive perfume that rich people seem intent on dousing themselves with.