Coyote couture

Dearest Internet;

So, it finally comes to this. Snarky fashion commentary from an addled, ancient, colourblind dog. Like you don't have enough of that kind of thing already.

I was primed to go all semimythical on Globe and Mail columnist Margaret Wente's ongoing plagiarism woes this post, but then realized that chuckin' rocks at her from a glass palace housing a remarkable collection of putative monuments to copyright infringement might be taken wrongly. (Pro-tip for Peggy Plagiarist: fair use and satire provisions of the copyright act figure heavily in any future legal defense of this blog. We ain't proud.)

So on to Plan B: fuzzy fashionista-ing. Sadly, I'm not even sure who to blame for this turn of events. The, ummm, Learning Channel's weird-ass assertion that What Not to Wear, and Honey Boo Boo constitute education? The guilty coffee-break pleasures of seeing Go Fug Yourself.Com -- a cosmic-level snark-ladler, even on off-days -- tear fraying strips of red carpet off actresses and celebutantes I've never heard of?

Now that I consider, the question burns hotter than any random Tory cabinet minister's pants in any given Question Period. But it is, as usual, a(nother) digression. Betcha didn't spot that one comin'!

No, we're here to speak of the tricks of perception and public relations that cause fashionistas worldwide to suddenly label one young woman possessed of Mediterranean extraction "fat", while another young woman possessed of Mediterranean extraction and pretty much the exact same body morphology, but arguably less talent, manages to keep getting called "hot".

I mean, yeah, Lady Gaga has been thinner, and maybe Kim Kardashian has, too. (See how I cleverly mentioned two heavily-Googled celebrity names in the same sentence? Pure hit counter gold, that. Not that this blog would ever stoop to such a thing.) Apparently I, ummm, digress again. Us coyotes are really no good at the fashion commentary thing, even though some of us were paper trained on back issues of Women's Wear Daily. Go figure.

What I meant to say, before chronic ADD once again bested my good narrative intentions is that Gaga's and KiKa's (can I call her KiKa...?) hips are pretty obviously about the same relative circumferences for their heights.

So from where I sit, KiKa's spackle-and-spin support team is earning its pay, because to my untrained yellow eye, both women are selling the same runway strut. Both outfits are analogously ridiculous. Ditto the shoes. Peroxide aside, there isn't much to tell the hair. Cheez. If we didn't have publicists, reality shows and entertainment "reporters" constantly telling us what to think, we'd be in deep, deep trouble...

Air Kisses and Fake Professions of Undying Love,

Coyote