The Golden Fugpass

Nicole Kidman is many things: a fairly talented actress, allegedly the author of a yet-to-be-published tell-all about her marriage to Tom Cruise, and best as a redhead. She is not yet, however, to my knowledge, an Upper East Side matron on her way to the board meeting of her favorite charity. Not that you’d know it from this:

[Photo: infdaily.com]

I once worked at a company we’ll call The Button Factory, although it was not a factory and buttons weren’t involved, unless you were telling me which ones you wanted on your custom, $25,000 ottoman. And at The Button Factory, I worked for a woman we’ll call Mulva. And Mulva was awesome. She swept into that office every day looking like a million bucks, in short little Chanel suits and very high heels and expertly coiffed hair, generally carrying a package that had been FedExed to her from Gump’s in San Francisco containing a tiger-shaped broach with rubies for eyes. She had booze at every business lunch and she once stared deep into my eyes and said, “honey, the whites of your eyes are the whitest I’ve EVER SEEN.” She would have snapped up this entire ensemble from Nicole, shortened the skirt, and worn the heck out of it.

Of course, she was also seventy-five years old.