That wonderful Isaac Mizrahi just pronounced that “Fat Is The New Black.” On national radio, no less!

I have been promoting this idea fashion-wise ever since I was a buxom young lass. At last, society has caught up with moi.

Fashion Week has been quite, quite the experience, as I might have written before. One designer’s show could have been titled “Attack of the Skinny Teen-Agers,” as a parade of bulemic heroin addicts in 5 inch heels stumbled down the runway in evening gowns meant for women twice their age and size, with that glazed look one associates with continual hunger and drug abuse. There were a number of paramedics outside the white tents at New York’s Bryant Park (yes, I know it’s near the Fashion District, but it’s so…midtown). They dashed into the backstage areas periodically, signalled by frantic designers, to administer emergency doses of protein powder and methadone.

All for now. I shall celebrate Mr. Mizhari’s pronouncement with a banana split (Kahlua makes an excellent substitute for hot fudge, dahlings). It almost makes me forgive him for Target.

Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog

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