Everyone
seems to spend a lot of effort whining about how they hate going to formal
events, because they’re stuffy and boring. However, these people are missing
the point: your attire sets the mood for the evening. Going to formal events in
a rented black tuxedo or an off-the-rack dress is like a recipe for falling asleep
before the chicken dance even begins. However, if you take this opportunity to
unleash the sartorial beast within, chances are that you’ll not only incite
seething lust and jealousy, you’ll end up party-rocking until the sun comes up.
Anyway,
what is there not to love about swanky events? Sure, the small talk is grating,
but after 20 minutes and the open bar, things start to loosen up, not to
mention the spread of tiny finger foods that act as a secret aphrodisiac.
Whether you’re attending your ex’s wedding, taking your 18-yearold girlfriend
to prom, or crashing the local country club gala, there’s no reason to “under-dress”
or “be tasteful”.
Basically,
if you’re a man, you will want to look like you’re a secret agent on an
assignment that involves rapid-fire dialogue with a Machiavellian host while
sipping a dry martini and eating tiny wieners on sticks. Get a white dinner
jacket. White shirt. Black bowtie. Pin a red carnation to your lapel, side-part
your hair, and bring your gun, because you will need it. Other men will be so
jealous of your 007 steeze that they will probably actually challenge you to a
fight or a loud James Bond trivia competition. But ignore them; they were
dressed by their wives, those silly gents, and you have supervillains to catch and
bitches to seduce. I’m actually getting a little bit hot under the collar just
thinking about the potential you right now.If you’re a woman, on the other hand, just go all-out Rich Bitch. Think Bianca Jagger, Elvira Hancock, or even Lana del Rey. Those hoes know how to dress like they tinkle champagne and shit diamonds. The key is really all in the details: a great blowout and manicured talons go a long way to exude an aura of wealth and taste, even if all your tiny bedazzled clutch contains is a maxed-out Visa and two sticks of gum. So, go make friends with an esthetician: my girl Kasandra operates a secret ghetto beauty salon out of her illegal basement suite and will make you over in exchange for a few hours of babysitting so she can go see The Hunger Games with her babydaddy! Who needs a fairy godmother with friends like these?
Also
– and this takes planning – hit up every rummage sale, garage blowout, craft
fair, Salvation Army, and old-dead-lady estate sale in West Vancouver. These
places are a veritable treasure trove of furs, bling, and accessories that you can
pile on that amazing vintage silk gown with navel-baring cleavage that you’ve
never had the guts to actually wear (extra points for going the pantsuit-with-only-a-bra-underneath
route). Anything with velvet, gold, big cubic zirconia gems, or centuries-old
beading is good to go, and don’t be shy about stacking bracelets ten deep over
your elbow-length opera gloves. That way, when your ex-boyfriend’s new flame
tries to make a snide remark about how she’s so happy, you can drown her out
with a deafening rattle of your Rich Bitch chains before blowing a cloud of
perfumed smoke from your Cruella de Ville cigarette holder all over her boring black
dress. Then, you sail away into the crowd to dry-hump James Bond on the dance
floor.
In
summary: never forget that you’re better than other people. Dress like it.
Cheetah
Powers is a long-time hoarder and lover of fabulous clothes. She believes that
a truly stylin' outfit should always be affordable, universal, and easy to pee
in.
//Cheetah Powers, columnist
//Author illustration
//Cheetah Powers, columnist
//Author illustration
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