Redress

No matter your political persuasion, after this last election every red blooded American woman is seeing red; it’s a Visine-resistant landscape out there, honey. And yea, it’s kind of a red flag that first we painted the town red, and then apparently we painted the states red too, till finally nearly the whole damn country is cat-in-the-hat red, from the redwood forests to the Red Lobster waters. Sure we’ve always had our rednecks, our Red Sox, our red vines, the Redwings, our red shirted freshmen, the Redskins, and the freakishly mutant yet still adored redheads (btw turns out that the rumor that redheads are going extinct was actually just a red herring). But make no mistake; this is a veritable red alert. Sure, maybe some of us have been drinking way too many Red Bulls, or eating too much red meat, and we’ve grown red faced with anger at all the damn red tape, and red faced with embarrassment that the wall street robber barons got caught red handed with their hands in the subprime cookie jar and that the federal budget is in the red, that the only guy who has two red cents to rub together is a monopolist in Redmond, and that the only job we could get was wearing the friggin’ bird costume at Red Robin.

So what’s a girl to do then, spend the day crying in her Redhook beer? Sure maybe there’s no vintage little red corvette in your immediate future. But you can still find fashion redemption on your personal red carpet. You can don this ravishingly red Queen of Hearts Dress. You can be the lady in red…dancing…cheek to cheek. You can make this day a red letter day (and at least try to blend in). And don’t it make your red eyes, don’t it make your red eyes, don’t it make your red eyes blue.