Appliqués: Really?

First let me give a big ol’ shout out to my girl, Michelle Obama. As the first woman of height in the White House, she has truly broken through that glass ceiling that forces women to stay under 5’ 7” –wearing heels. With her in the White House, I can now dream a dream that one day, years from now, the daughters of Dutch fashion models and the sons of Japanese acrobats can sit down at the table of normal-looking couples together. I can dream that my daughters will one day live in a nation where their hotness is judged not by the degree to which they make men feel large, but by the content of their blogs, and certain craniofacial indicia of health. I can dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: that all models are created hot, and are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable traits, like tallness; and that we hold this truth to be self-evident: tall chicks are hot.

But second, let me say: Appliques? Really?

Michelle’s gown tonight looked beautiful—it’s white shimmery fabric gleaming against her dark, toned arms. It’s long, flowing skirt elegantly cascading to the floor, obscuring, I suspect, her flats. And it’s fluffy, glue-gunned appliqués undulating in the–wait—appliqués?

Michelle, I know you came out of the 80’s, but your previous fashion behavior indicates that you understand that we are darn near the tens. Perhaps you were thrown off by the idea of a ball gown. As a little girl of the 80’s myself, I too am attracted to bedazzlers, glued-on mirrors, and puffy paint–especially when they adorn elegant gowns–but the appliqué is something that I will not–nay, must not–ever do. Like its fellow star of the 80’s, crack, it seems like a good idea at the time, but it’s best to hold off.

But despite that singular mistake, you are still me hero, Michelle. May your heels pass two inches and your daughters pass 5′10″.