Will heaven look like an Egyptian novelty print?

This one is live, goslings, live. Bidding will close in 12 hours. Elaborately detailed Egyptian print, based, I think, on items in the Met's permanent collection. Cobras, bald scholars and dancing dames. Surprising red white and blue colorway. I like that the blue is actually navy and that the red evokes South Western clay more than tomatos. Sized large (B43, W42, H44), and it zips up the front. I'd be tempted to add a scarab beetle pendant as a zipper pull. And now the show stopper: it's skorts!

As you well know, I love the faux, the feignt, and the frippery. I love a sewn-in pocketsquare, a false front, a dickie, a peblum, and attached belts that serve no purpose at all. And shorts masquerading as a skirt, that gets my heart pounding.

I have a weakness for one piece skorts emsembles. Even though they are inconvenient, like leotards, reducing one to near nudity in public bathrooms just to pee. But with the front zip, this one is a little more amenable. But in a cotton-rayon blend you might not be able to wear this one over tights without a static cling episode. This is a warm weather skort.

Walking the streets of my city in 30 degree weather, I see young women bare-legged and shivering. Now I would like to see the bare-leg and mini-skirt trend remain in Southern California where it belongs. Normally this infuriates me. Yet another example of women endangering their health for a stupid trend. But this time, rather than condemn these young things suffering for fashion, I looked into my own heart.

In all truth, goslings, I wasn't wearing tights either. I had on a pair of black silk pajama pants (embossed with Chinese symbols for double happiness) over legwarmers tucked into a pair of 80s vintage boots beneath a full-skirted 50s dress. Why? Because I find tights, stockings and pantyhose unbearable. Binding in the waist, toes trapped and too much unbreathable synthetic fabric. Leggings are alright at times, at least to toes can breathe a bit. And I thought, it makes sense that my solution to the problem is to put on more clothes, but that for others, it's to wear less.

Perhaps tights, stockings and pantyhose have disappointed and betrayed us all. Static cling, runs in the stockings, double panty line around the waist (or double muffin top). The squiggley seam that runs down the belly looking like a nasty surgery scar, or a line of mustard on a hot dog. The way some opague tights get sheer and discolored around the widest part of your thighs making your legs look like cheap balloons. The way they don't survive the washing machine. And hand-washing? Please, how many women do you know have time for that? And quite frankly that lack of breathability (despite the cotton crotch the size of a nickel) is just a yeast infection waiting to happen. There, I said it! I guess this will be my most bodily post yet.

Maybe leg-covering technology is about to evolve. I remember a time when it was suddenly unacceptable to have visible deodorant residue, but the clear deodorant was not yet available to counteract this. Before that, if memory serves, damn that Alzheimers, we all had white goop under our arms. (As an aside, sotto voce: Now the debate about whether or not deodorant causes Alzheimers is still on. But surely applying aluminum to your skin can't be good for you. On the other hand, the pugent smells of anarchists and now Brooklyn hipster boys--yes I mena that in the pegoritive--I don't enjoy being down-wind of that.) Who knows? But on the other hand, clothing hasn't evolved much, and women's clothing seems to exist in a vortex of sex and subjugation. Why oh why do straight women now wear drag queen skyscraper heels? Why? I went into 9 West recently to find nothing besides 7 inch stilletos that even Flotilla de Barge wouldn't wear on stage. Oh the femininity.