Dressed To Excess
Photo Credit: Cleo Glyde
Judiciously holding back can be more powerful and fabulous—showcasing one erogenous zone at a time, be it legs, boobs, or back. Reveal the goodies all at once, and you can wind up looking like the blonde Greek chorus currently trailing Hugh Hefner.
But as I start high-kicking through my late 30s, the question won’t just be where do I stop, but when. As it happens, I have a far stricter judge than myself to deal with now. The other day, in my rush to drive my 9-year-old son, Spencer, to school, I threw on a traditional djellabah robe that I bought at the Berber market in Marrakech and put up the hood. Spencer beseeched me to drop him off around the corner. “But darling,” I said, “it’s so Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’s your favorite!” To which he replied, “Yes, Mum—but that doesn’t mean I want you looking like him at school!”
I’m learning: There’s a time and a place. That said, people don’t go to the ball to see World Wrestling Federation sweatshirts; they want eye candy, so give it to ’em. When the jungle drums call you to the party this holiday season, kiss that pumpkin coach good-bye and crank it up a notch.
Remember, if she’s any fun at all, your hostess is counting on you.
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