Rules of Fashion and Humor
“I haven’t blogged lately,” I lament to Poof over my Benedict Timothy from Brandywine’s. It’s corned beef hash covered with eggs covered with Hollandaise sauce and it’s 200% delicious.
Poof is noshing on an omelette, which she’s affectionately named “n-omlette.”
“Blog about today,” she tells me. We’re dressed up to do photos for her fashion blog, which is our Tuesday/Thursday Mommy day routine. Sometimes it feels good to get out of the yoga pants. “Blog about wearing white after Labor Day.”
“But wearing white after Labor Day isn’t funny!” I argue. “White pants aren’t funny, unless you know the unlucky person who looks like Moses parted the red sea in her pants. And with my luck, it would be me, which means it wouldn’t be funny to me, so I wouldn’t want to blog it.”
We pause for a moment of silence – to all those women who don’t know when their TOM is and have ruined a good pair of white pants.
Post breakfast, Poof takes a photo of me trying to balance on a curb.
I’m failing, for one thing, for another, I realize my pants aren’t even white-white. The tank top I’m wearing is definitely white, but the jeans are just a shade or two off. They’re cream. Or ecru. Or off-white. Or…
“I’d call them more of a winter white,” Poof tells me.
“So they’d could be funny. If you happened to lose me in the snow,” I sigh.
“That’s why you should probably wear them after Labor Day.” Poof tells me.
Well. I’m silent. I have no response.
Touche, Poof. Touche.