Fugoebe Price

Star magazine just turned five, and this is what Phoebe Price gave it at its party:

This is what I imagine Barbie would wear to the funeral of her archrival’s husband, with whom Barbie of course had a torrid affair that may have spawned a love child who is entitled to half the man’s estate. (Although I think Barbie would’ve remembered not to stop applying bronzer at her wrists — or, better, would have accessorized with elbow-length gloves).

It’s a marvelous gift of lunacy to Star, and to us all. Phoebe, my birthday is on August 16, and I am turning… not five. So for all my extra years on this planet, I hope you come up with a sartorial present for me that is commensurately more wackadaisical. Thank you.