A January Trip to the Dress Boutique.

**Mouseover for important disclaimer**

Hey, Dress Boutique – White Christmas called.  They want their costumes back for the grande finale.

Timing is everything.  When I passed by the dress boutique in the morning, there was a fur stole around the shoulders of the mannequin in the middle.  It had disappeared when I went back later that evening.  That would have made the connection complete, but even without white fur you can see that this one came straight off the 35mm Movietone.  The one in the middle is the obvious choice for Rosemary Clooney.  Even back in those glory days of relative slimness for her, she had impressive bazooms and some undeniable junk in the trunk.  You don’t think that if that thing was hung on the bones of Vera Ellen that the safety straps would have been necessary, do you?

 No, the anorexic Vera Ellen would have worn the one on the left – the one with the flat chest, fur ring at the knees and the bows placed at the hips to cast the widest possible shadow.  Who else would wear that?  Maybe Audrey Hepburn.  That is to say could wear it, but I think we all recognize that she wouldn’t.  I mean, LOOK AT THAT THING.  What a mish-mosh of add-ons!  Maybe without the neckline crystals, the bow and the fur, it started out to be elegant and timeless but whose idea was it to add on three unrelated adornments and then call it done and walk away?

The dress on the other end at least has a trimmings theme going on.  Note how the shoulder guards match the delicate ring of feathers at the calf.  But as feathers go, these seem a bit morose, don’t they?  I don’t know – if I was going to deck myself out in feathers, I think I might want something a bit more Dolly Levi and a little less Dr. Seuss.

 It would appear that the dress boutique has got itself a marketing department now.  Observe the blatant "First You Gotta Get ‘Em In The Door" tactic of displaying the gift-wrapped box with assorted merchandise atop it.  If the devil is in the details, then we leave behind all notion of the wholesome Irving Berlin and go with Frederick’s of Hollywood: "Santa Baby, I’ve been very, very bad.  I deserve a pair of red hot spiked heels and an evening bag witha  great big Gypsy Rose Lee bow to cover what’s in front."