After a Fashion

Photo By Katie Servos

WISE WORDS I never go out without looking like Joan Crawford, the movie star. As she said, "If you want to see the girl next door, then go next door!"

– Joan Crawford 1904-1977

MATCH STINKS I spent many years in the bridal industry as a designer and consultant, and I've seen brides go off the deep end trying to make everything match. Making everything match is a refuge for the ignorant and uncreative. If the color of the Jordan Almonds did not match the bride's garter exactly, someone's head was gonna roll. The most extreme example in which matching is taken waaay too far? It occurred recently: Britney Spears and the entire clan of Spears: Mom, dad, and sister Jamie Lynn all had their hair dyed "chocolate brown" to match La Brit's hair at her wedding to some guy. That should have very nicely complemented the groomsmen's elegant ensembles: tracksuits (not "chocolate brown") emblazoned with the word "Pimp" on them. So sophisticated, you could die! Now, gossip sources say the down-home pair is breeding. Let us all pray.

ALL IN THE FAMILY I must have acquired my taste for garishness from my father. When, in 1970, after much begging, I finally got a pair of stars-and-stripes bellbottoms, my father immediately wanted to borrow them. One time, after I'd run away from home, he lured me back by buying for me a pair of ultrastylish overalls at Chess King in North Star Mall in San Antonio. Of course, he wanted to borrow those, as well. He also borrowed my snakeskin vinyl vest – the one I wore to school in eighth grade. To be fair, I must admit, it went both ways: I also helped myself to his stylish wardrobe – especially his shoes, which were always the latest styles. He loved all things rich and ornate, a taste which I definitely inherited. I remember the year my parents separated and my father went to live in some characterless apartment on the other side of town. He picked me up one winter's day for a holiday visit. On the way to his apartment, we stopped to buy a tiny little Christmas tree. We spent that entire evening making red and green bows out of fat yarn – you know, that yarn that all the girls wore in their hair in the Sixties. Then, we put a string of those big old lights on the tree and applied the bows. Still, my father was not satisfied, and we trekked back to the store to buy glittery gold garland with bells attached. The tree suddenly glistened and sparkled like cheap dime-store jewelry. My father was delighted, and so was I. It wasn't until much later that I discovered one of the best things about growing up and leaving home: You get to decorate your own Christmas tree any way you want. Since then, I've gleefully indulged my passion for tree decorating, collecting new accoutrements throughout the year. Memories of my father's tree were not far from my mind this year as I delved into the chore of unpacking the lights and ornaments. I gazed upon the spread. Continuing with the garish peacock theme I'd started two years earlier, I decided to elaborate on it by crowning the tree with a new 18-inch peacock tree topper with a fan of real feathers spread out behind him. It looked good, but I had the nagging feeling that it needed something else. "More feathers!" I finally decided and then plunged headfirst into demented prima-donna mode, wrapping the tree in feather boas with coordinated blue, green, purple, turquoise, and chartreuse lights. Now, as the tree revolves in a mist of shimmering golden plumes, I realize that I have finally manifested my personal vision: It looks like a transvestite! My tree is the queen of all drag queens! Since I thoroughly subscribe to Diana Vreeland's pronouncement that every culture needs a bit of vulgarity, I have no problem with the excess. As Bobbie Gentry sang, "I might have been born just plain white trash, but Fancy was my name!"

HOLI-DAZE The very stylish little shopping strip on South First (SoFi) is tossing a festive event on Saturday, Dec. 11, 11am-7pm, for Holiday Shopping Madness & Fun. It's taking place at Shag Salon, Kick Pleat, Love, Tryst, and Sabia, with therapeutic facials, food, spirits, and plenty of shopping. Santa Claus will be on hand for photo ops, noon-3pm, and the Ginger Leigh Band will perform at 3pm.

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SANTA-RHEA

Blackmail's Bad Santa (above) raises his fist in solidarity with the Santarchists who accosted the store, beating on the windows, demanding to "Free Santa!" Santarchy is an event of the Cacophony Society (a national group with a local chapter) that is celebrating 10 years of good-natured holiday fun having "conquered not only the U.S., but Antarctica and Asia as well!" www.santarchy.com.