I have a confession. Ever since I was a
small boy, I've wanted to be as
fabulous as the most
stylish cartoon
villainess ever to grace the
silver screen. I wanted the
car, the
walk, the
talk and the long
cigarette holder of
Cruella De Vil. Sure, she was mean, she was
nasty, deceitful, diabolical and just
plain wicked, but she did it all for
fashion. She hatched no
byzantine plots for
world domination, there were no extravagant
revenge schemes; all that she wanted was to be absolutely
stunning in her
puppy fur coat. You can't help but
admire the moxy of a woman so twistedly stylish that her only aim was to out-chic the
chic by taking
adorable little puppies and slaughtering them for the
sake of her wardrobe.
She was Auntie Mame with all the kisses and "my little loves" stripped away to reveal the cold, calculating, ruthless fashionista underneath. Cruella taught me that more than fame, style costs, and here's where you start paying ... in the blood of those cuddly little baby harp seals. I learned that the first step in acheiving your goals was being willing to step on and crush all the little people beneath the heel of your ferragamo pumps if they stand in your way. I learned that killing a Chinchilla is perfectly acceptible if you want a nice pair of fur-lined gloves, no matter how much they resemble pikachu in wretched cuteness (fortunately, for Chinchillas, their fur makes me sneeze).
Of course, in these days of tender sensibility and raised consciousness, it's not politically correct to slaughter cute little woodland creatures in search of that touch of je ne sais quoi that only wanton killing gives you. There are now groups that want to punish people who engage in such innocuous activities as collecting honey or making cheese. Wearing a silk shirt is nearly unthinkable. So I suppose wearing my cape made from the fur of mongolian white lions outside is an absolute no-no. Oh well, destiny awaits, and I think there's a knock at the door...