Designer Knockoff Read Online Free
calculated to warm the hearts of Republicans on the Senate panel. But handsome and glib though he was, he didn’t add any sizzle to the proceedings. Not like a pretty spokesmodel wearing something unexpected, Lacey thought.
Following his remarks, the Bentleys were on their feet and moving out of the hearing room, and so were half the reporters. They didn’t wait for the union witnesses to begin their statements. The glamour was wherever the Bentleys were.
Aaron slid past Lacey’s table with Cordelia on his arm and Lacey heard her complain sotto voce, “I’ve got to get out of this thing, darling. You have no idea how hot it is.”
“Just be glad we didn’t make you wear the khaki rayon panties, the girdle, the rayon stockings, and the jersey slip,” Aaron whispered as he squeezed her elbow. “Now smile pretty, Cordy; this is your big moment. Maybe you could salute.” Cordelia jabbed him quickly in the ribs before returning to her role and smiling for the cameras.
Khaki panties. It was a lovely tidbit; Lacey wrote it down. The media swarm closed around Aaron Bentley and Cordelia Westgate, and Lacey tried to figure out how best to approach Hugh the B, who was also being swallowed up by a smaller circle of reporters. She was trying to elbow her way in as unobtrusively as possible when she suddenly caught his eye.
For a moment Hugh stared at Lacey; then he drew up his silver-handled walking stick and waved it around like a rapier to carve out some room. He motioned for Lacey to come closer. The crowd grudgingly parted for her.
“Young woman, young woman, is that an original Bentley suit you’re wearing, or just a copy? Let me take a look at you—my God, it is my suit! And it’s in beautiful shape. I’d know that suit anywhere.” He lifted his eyes from her to the crowd and addressed them like a circus barker. “That suit, ladies and gentlemen, was from my very first collection, the one that made my reputation, at least in a small way. Fall of 1944,” Hugh said. “And this lovely young lady has brought it back to life. My dear, my dear, come tell me your name. You and I must talk.”
Lacey Smithsonian’s
FASHION BITES
How to Tell If You’re Prematurely Serious
Experienced Washington observers will have taken note of the predominant Washington look. You see it everywhere—in the halls of Congress, walking down K Street, or just squeezing the oranges at Safeway. The look that says, “We are serious.”
Washington style is serious with a capital S, serious as in we-are-messing-with-your-lives serious, we are writing your laws, we are collecting your taxes, and we are spending your money. (It’s for your own good.) And when we say serious, we mean Serious!
White this is the accepted look for the gray and graying federal workforce, it seems unnaturally somber in the young. Unfortunately, Washington is positively drenched in the look of the tragically drab Young Fogey. Test yourself to see if you are among the Prematurely Serious:
• You put on your photo ID tag before you leave your home. You wear it everywhere, even to go to the video store. Or perhaps you never take it off. You feel naked without it. You have a serious identity—you need serious identification.
• Casual Fridays make you tense. Casual is not Serious. If you wanted to be casual, you’d live in California, for pity’s sake. So you wear a tie anyway, or heels and hose, and a smart navy blazer. “Oh, is it Friday already?” you say. “I’ve been so busy, I lost track of time. The weekend? Oh, I’ll be working all weekend.”
• Your wardrobe consists entirely of black, navy, taupe, gray, and white. You think of the taupe outfit as your reckless, devil-may-care look.
• Color makes you nervous, and bright shades of pink, yellow, and purple cause you to break out in a sweat. In fact, those are colors you’d only wear in a sweatshirt, and only at the gym, where exercise is Serious Business.
• Makeup? Contacts? A
Following his remarks, the Bentleys were on their feet and moving out of the hearing room, and so were half the reporters. They didn’t wait for the union witnesses to begin their statements. The glamour was wherever the Bentleys were.
Aaron slid past Lacey’s table with Cordelia on his arm and Lacey heard her complain sotto voce, “I’ve got to get out of this thing, darling. You have no idea how hot it is.”
“Just be glad we didn’t make you wear the khaki rayon panties, the girdle, the rayon stockings, and the jersey slip,” Aaron whispered as he squeezed her elbow. “Now smile pretty, Cordy; this is your big moment. Maybe you could salute.” Cordelia jabbed him quickly in the ribs before returning to her role and smiling for the cameras.
Khaki panties. It was a lovely tidbit; Lacey wrote it down. The media swarm closed around Aaron Bentley and Cordelia Westgate, and Lacey tried to figure out how best to approach Hugh the B, who was also being swallowed up by a smaller circle of reporters. She was trying to elbow her way in as unobtrusively as possible when she suddenly caught his eye.
For a moment Hugh stared at Lacey; then he drew up his silver-handled walking stick and waved it around like a rapier to carve out some room. He motioned for Lacey to come closer. The crowd grudgingly parted for her.
“Young woman, young woman, is that an original Bentley suit you’re wearing, or just a copy? Let me take a look at you—my God, it is my suit! And it’s in beautiful shape. I’d know that suit anywhere.” He lifted his eyes from her to the crowd and addressed them like a circus barker. “That suit, ladies and gentlemen, was from my very first collection, the one that made my reputation, at least in a small way. Fall of 1944,” Hugh said. “And this lovely young lady has brought it back to life. My dear, my dear, come tell me your name. You and I must talk.”
Lacey Smithsonian’s
FASHION BITES
How to Tell If You’re Prematurely Serious
Experienced Washington observers will have taken note of the predominant Washington look. You see it everywhere—in the halls of Congress, walking down K Street, or just squeezing the oranges at Safeway. The look that says, “We are serious.”
Washington style is serious with a capital S, serious as in we-are-messing-with-your-lives serious, we are writing your laws, we are collecting your taxes, and we are spending your money. (It’s for your own good.) And when we say serious, we mean Serious!
White this is the accepted look for the gray and graying federal workforce, it seems unnaturally somber in the young. Unfortunately, Washington is positively drenched in the look of the tragically drab Young Fogey. Test yourself to see if you are among the Prematurely Serious:
• You put on your photo ID tag before you leave your home. You wear it everywhere, even to go to the video store. Or perhaps you never take it off. You feel naked without it. You have a serious identity—you need serious identification.
• Casual Fridays make you tense. Casual is not Serious. If you wanted to be casual, you’d live in California, for pity’s sake. So you wear a tie anyway, or heels and hose, and a smart navy blazer. “Oh, is it Friday already?” you say. “I’ve been so busy, I lost track of time. The weekend? Oh, I’ll be working all weekend.”
• Your wardrobe consists entirely of black, navy, taupe, gray, and white. You think of the taupe outfit as your reckless, devil-may-care look.
• Color makes you nervous, and bright shades of pink, yellow, and purple cause you to break out in a sweat. In fact, those are colors you’d only wear in a sweatshirt, and only at the gym, where exercise is Serious Business.
• Makeup? Contacts? A
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