I wonder how Erika here looked in the blue dress by itself.
Tragically we will never know, because she appears to be prouder of her outerwear, which looks like the kind of 3 a.m. craft project that ensues when your boyfriend dumps you but he leaves his expensive camping gear in your hall closet, so in an insomniac trance you turn his outdoor sleeping bag -- strings and all -- into a poncho that you can wear on the couch while you watch Bridget Jones' Diary and marinate in woe. And then, when you feel better, you take it on the town in the hopes that he'll see it and get enraged and you can be all, "What? THAT old thing? My HOT NEW LOVER told me it would make a great jacket," and then you pour his beer over his head because you are not stupid enough to waste your own. All of which is great and all, but the ending would be happier if it didn't involve a girl floating off into the sunset looking like a giant black tent with legs.
Tragically we will never know, because she appears to be prouder of her outerwear, which looks like the kind of 3 a.m. craft project that ensues when your boyfriend dumps you but he leaves his expensive camping gear in your hall closet, so in an insomniac trance you turn his outdoor sleeping bag -- strings and all -- into a poncho that you can wear on the couch while you watch Bridget Jones' Diary and marinate in woe. And then, when you feel better, you take it on the town in the hopes that he'll see it and get enraged and you can be all, "What? THAT old thing? My HOT NEW LOVER told me it would make a great jacket," and then you pour his beer over his head because you are not stupid enough to waste your own. All of which is great and all, but the ending would be happier if it didn't involve a girl floating off into the sunset looking like a giant black tent with legs.
