Alison Goldfugg

I am mildly obsessed with musician Alison Goldfrapp’s name. Say it with me: Goldfrapp. It’s so fun. It could work in so many contexts: as a replacement swear word (“Aw, goldfrapp, I dropped my feather boa into my drink”), a raunchy verb (“I went home with him and we goldfrapped for hours“), an obscure sport popular in Scandinavian countries (“HallÃ¥, I am Fjord Bjorn, zee Svedish national goldfrapp champion”) an expensive novelty iced coffee beverage (“I’ll have a grande goldfrappuccino with whipped cream, please”) the name of a dashing, authority-averse TV detective whose boss is always yelling at him (“Get … me… GOLDFRAPP”) or the name of the aforementioned detective’s villainous nemesis, frequently screamed at the skies while our hero kneels over a dead body and shakes his fist (“GooooldfrAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!”), or even as a noun for something sort of squicky (“Shoot, I got goldfrapp all over my Jimmy Choos”).

Unfortunately, if she’s not careful, it could end up in our lexicon as,
“Oh my God, that woman is totally pulling a Goldfrapp,” or “I almost
goldfrapped myself when I saw that shirt.”

Behold:

Business-disco wear created with a mosaic of sequins? This wouldn’t even pass muster in Guys and Dolls On Ice, let alone in the regular world. So sit down, honey — you’re goldfrapping the boat.