New York Fugshion Week: Chloe Sevigny

Dear Chloe “Fuck Your Umlaut” Sevigny,

Why so blue?

When you woke up this morning and realized that the oversized white sunglasses your mom bought for you at Raging Waters back in 1983 still fit your big fat head, didn’t you smile? When you got out of the shower and decided just to let your hair do its own thing — much as I do on days when I have a busy schedule of the stomach flu ahead of me — didn’t you chuckle to yourself, pleased with your own efficiency? When you decided to wear that dress that Half Pint wore in the episode of Little House on Prairie where Mary burns down the barn and wakes up all blind, weren’t you filled with glee at the thought of your own unbearably ironic hipster charm? When you stole that umbrella from your grandma, didn’t you laugh at the thought of the old woman stuck in the rain without it? When you then nabbed her orthopedic shoes and outfitted them with heels made of corks from the discarded bottles of Two Buck Chuck littering your bedroom, weren’t you thrilled with your own ingenuity? Yes? Then why do you look so sad?

Does it have something to do with Vincent Gallo’s wang?