If you ever thought for any reason that fashion should be forsaken for any creature comforts you are WRONG. Fashion is not about comfort, it’s not about warmth, it’s not about quitting smoking for your health, it’s not about wearing Uughs instead of heels in the snow because they’re more “practical” - it’s about looking fucking good.

Don’t get it twisted.

My fingers are cold. My body is chilled. My toes are frozen. My feet ache. My lungs are heaving. My stomach hurts from holding it in. My neck smarts from holding my shoulders back. I have a headache from too many bobby pins. I have a blank stare on my face from lack of nourishment. My skin is taught from dehydration. I’m stuck in my outfit until someone comes to let me out.

But fuck if I didn’t get compliments all day long.

Now that I’m in my hotel room I can rip off my dress, pull out all those bobby pins, turn the heat on high, order mac n’ cheese, throw on cashmere sweats and watch pay per view with the same blank stare and smile as I think about all those compliments. If that’s not fashion I don’t know what is…

Isn’t the phrase “Beauty Hurts” bandied about all over celebrity-ville? Well that’s the advice I took, and now I can’t get the gook out of my hair or replace my face’s blank look.

Who ever invented the phrase didn’t understand that we of the never never don’t walk red carpets and don’t frown in dark glasses for paparazzi hounds who don’t follow us around. I’d take a jeans and Uughs any day over heels in the snow, and I’d love to live six more years and avoid cancer’s ugly head for those who insist that skinny makes them smoke die young for fashion - a pathetic cause to be dead.

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