If I Never See Your Fug Again

Fug file:

jumpsuit,
stripes

It's hard to judge what someone wears to cope with the heat of summer.

But not that hard.

I'm not even sure where one FINDS romper-culottes, unless they popped up in the luggage of a ship that got sucked into the Bermuda Triangle twenty years ago and only just resurfaced last week. Although that could also describe 90 percent of Forever XXI's wares on any given week, so maybe if I weren't so easily frightened away by infinite racks of cotton-spandex minidresses and footless tights, I would have found this there; then, maybe, if I had ALSO recently slipped and cracked my skull on the toilet, right this very second I too could look like a Lands' End catalog model, lounging in my backyard drinking pink lemonade and brushing crumbs from my bag of Combos off my wicked-nifty seersucker onesie. Oh, how different life could be if only I'd gotten a head injury this weekend. I wonder what Rihanna's excuse is.