Well Fugged, Sarah Brightman

When I was about nine, I saw Sarah Brightman in Phantom of the Opera, and because I was really into musical theater, I wanted to be her. This lasted about six months, until I decided I wanted to be Eponine from Les Miserables (the tragic romantic in me liked the idea of sticking it to my unrequited love by dying in his arms because I had done him a huge, dangeous favor; what can I say? I was a moronic kid sometimes). So I never gave Sarah Brightman much thought ever again.

Until now. Aside from the obvious fact that I do not live in Washington D.C., I need to know why, God, WHY was I not at this concert?

[Photo: WENN]

My brain is short-circuiting right now. In about ten minutes I will be unable to do anything but roll around my living room speaking in a robotic monotone and saying things like, “NO DISASSEMBLE” before I spy a truck outside, scream, “Oh no. NOVA,” and hide underneath the couch. This is insane on the most spectacular level. Lace-up leggings? Platform heels? A corset that erupts in ruffles? A crown? This is so much no, yet it all adds up to YES. It’s like Moulin Rouge meets ’80s hair metal. They should make a sequel starring Sarah and Bret Michaels.

You might wonder why Sarah needs quite so much skirt. The answer is obvious:

It’s for maximum swing effect, of course! It’s a good thing this didn’t exist when I was nine, or I’d probably have suggested to my mother that she make this for me so I could go as Sarah for Halloween, and impress all the fourth-grade boys on the playground with my wicked skirtitude. (My mother, bless her, would’ve laughed and laughed and laughed and then reminded me that I should just go as Madonna, like always).

I am in awe. Sarah Brightman is NUTS. And yet how can you not love this sheer volume of shiny crazy? I can’t say for sure, but I THINK this outfit might someday lead to world peace.