Fat and fashion.

I saw this woman on the bus the other day that was just so damn fabulous.

She was enormously overweight, but she wasn't cute despite that; it added to the utter fabulousness. She had on this hot pink dress, a great color for her, that showed off her giant bazoombas, why not, and fell straight from under said bosom in a very flattering and yet not tent-like or phantom-pregnancy-inducing way.

She accessorized with giant silver hoop earrings with sparkly gems in them, chunky silver bangles, a giant silver handbag with square studs, and silver flip flops. I seriously could not stop just looking at her outfit. I just love super matchy looks. I am a sucker for matching, like, earrings and shoes and/or handbag. But also the whole outfit and her demeanor just exuded this fabulous rich fullness, like some kind of showy rainforest flower in full bloom.

So I swallowed my (intense, crippling) fear of initiating contact with fellow humans and stopped (on my way off the bus, because I am still a coward) to tell her that I just thought she was completely fabulous and I loved her whole look. She smiled and said "Thank you! I try, I try." I sincerely hope I made her day because really, her outfit made mine.

And I encourage you, my fellow humans, to do this also. Break out of the social convention of no eye contact! don't make eye contact! to tell someone that their t-shirt rocks, that you like their hairstyle, or that somehow you appreciate something they've brought to the world, sartorially or otherwise.

Fashion forward, me.

Today I am sporting a glamorous ensemble of:

• vintage polar fleece top with custom grubbiness at cuffs and pockets

• mildly distressed t-shirt

• sweatpants with delicate all-over pilling, subtle remnants of the original screenprint motif and drawstrings gently chewed by a feline stylist

• sneakers wittily inspired by the stylings of rather more expensive sneakers, and accented with"paint-splatter" detail

All this paired with the fresh, natural "no make-up" look and the "messy" bun hairdo seen on runways throughout Fashion Week!

What's your Sunday best?

Fun Size: Trivial Matters.

Why are casino & movie theatre carpets always retina-searingly ugly?

The maxi-dress is the perfect hit-on deterrent. Not even the desperate, toothless hoboes in my neighborhood want to hit on an apparently pregnant chick.

Why do different shoes make your feet smell different? It's the same sweat, right?

Furthermore, why are my most expensive shoes the worst offenders in the odor department?

I Love Hate Love Harper's Bazaar

Years and years ago I used to read Harper's Bazaar magazine all the time, but once I moved out of home it started to make me angry and I stopped buying it.

When you're on a tight budget just to make the rent every month, seeing those glossy photos of $300 t-shirts and $4,000 shoes really grates on you. I was livid to think that not only were people buying these things, they were tossing them in the back of the closet the following month and going out to get new ones. Lousy rich bastards. Couldn't they live without one more sterling silver Tiffany paperweight and pay my rent for a couple weeks?

But I just got my hands on a copy of the American Bazaar and it made me remember why I liked it in the beginning. Fashion at the haute couture level is like art. We're talking about a sculptural, hand-carved heel or a full-length gown encrusted with tiny Swarovski crystals. You just can't haggle over price at that level. If those designers were worried about keeping costs down they'd never be able to produce the exuberant, over-the-top craziness that they do.

A dress that uses a football field worth of lace and took eighteen Spanish grandmothers six weeks to make by hand is never going to be cheap and I will never be able to afford it, but when I look at a picture of it in a glossy magazine it makes me happy because I have witnessed beauty. It feeds my soul in the same way that a beautiful oil painting, photograph or poem can.