Oy, boys, girls, and undecideds, 'tis the season to be not only jolly, but also fully and hopefully fashionably clothed as per Contractual Term #1 of the Montreal Fashion Week Constitution which clearly states that:
"All attendees must wear the maximum amount of bodily apparel as is humanly possible in order to avoid nudity of any shape or form and to promote the diffusion of sartorial extremism to the lowly masses. This clause makes exception to nipple and genital protrusions witnessed at all runway shows and/or after-parties."
I. don't. make. this. shit. up.
So I deem it not only appropriate (not that anything I've said so far has been appropriate) but also NECESSARY to introduce my soon-to-be-released (note: soon is a very loaded word) new blog, aptly entitled Not a Nudist.
In lieu of this week's prescribed anti-nudity theme and its convenient but probably unintended alignment with my new blog, I promise to attend wearing nothing but...DA DA DAHHHH......CLOTHES! (Novel idea, I know.) But, when I say clothes I mostly mean garments which fall into the category of ridiculousness.
So what will I be wearing? To predict the future, we must look to the past:
Option 1: The Grandma-ma?
Option 2: The Woolly Mammoth?
Option 3: The Angst-Ridden Teen Who Questions His/Her Sexuality?
Option 4: The Hypothermic Winter Clown?
Actually none of the above. Follow to find out. And then check in here to get my post-show recaps. Consider me your election season anti-depressant. Overdosing allowed.