I don’t care how rich you are. You can’t wear leopard skin print and not look like a transvestite impersonating Peg Bundy.
Unless you’re my Aunt Pat.
At 220 pounds, my mom’s older sister is a closet fashionista whose personal style is to mix animal print with a large crucifix necklace and lots of cheap baubles. With her blond bob, she resembles a plastic doll you’d win at a carnival, not the dotting grandma she is.
She’s also fond of sequins, bright colors and hair bows, but that’s another post.
The point here is Aunt Pat, age 84, can pull these off. Moms, mid-life professionals, soroity girls, yuppies can’t. So, until you’re card carrying AARP member and have a cane, no clothes that at one time barked, bite, growled, howled or hissed.
