Yesterday I was talking to the Aries on the phone while she made the long drive to the Blue Ridge Mountains to see her man, and in typical Southern girl form, our accents started to get so drawn out. Pretty soon we sounded like character actors in a Tennessee Williams play. The Alabama leaks out like, dare I say, molasses.
We were talking about fashion and her utter apathy towards it.
“I think I could like fashion,” she said, “if everyone were dressed as a ballerina.”
But, dear Aries, for your consideration I offer you a Southern gal we can all get behind as a style icon:
All morning I’ve been listening to Doll Parton sing “Wildflowers” (total FFBR anthem, by the way), thinking about how deliciously Dolly Parton has styled herself over the years. She’s one of the few women I forgive for her endless supply of cosmetic surgeries because I think, well, at least she cackles about it with her signature wit (“If I see something sagging, bagging and dragging, I’m going to nip it, tuck it, and suck it!”).
Seriously, guys, check out this wildness:
Listen to “Wildflowers” with a great slideshow of her fabulous style:
The hills were alive with wildflowers
And I was as wild, even wilder than they
For at least I could run,
they just died in the sun
And I refused to just wither in place
Just a wild mountain rose, needing freedom to grow
So I ran fearing not where I’d go
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers don’t care where they grow