Fuggie Bell

I know that socialite Birdie Bell’s shoes are in fashion, but I don’t like them with this dress, at all:

To me, she looks like a 1940s war bride, slaving away at home whilst her beloved risks his life for our country. But not in that hot,  eye-pencil-drawn-up-the-back-of-your-leg-to-approximate seamed-stockings, adorably snooded, jitterbug-dancing, Victory Garden-keeping, USO-visiting, wearing-dungarees-to-the-factory kind of way. In a sort of dowdy, sensibly orthopedically-shod, “I’m not really interested in giving it up to you, even though we could all die tomorrow, AND we just had what should be a romantic quickie wedding” kind of way.  This girl is spying on her neighbors because she thinks they’re cheating on their rations, and she thinks dancing is Satan’s shortcut to sin.  She doesn’t wear eye liner even on her eyes, and her letters to the front are neither amusing nor inspirational.

NO ONE wants to be that girl.