It speaks!
And in the Queen’s English, no less! But like the legendary basilisk, one must be careful to avoid its killing glare, poisonous breath and scales so tough that not even the sharpest barbs can penetrate them. Take note how the others either keep a respectful distance, turn their back towards it or carry a weapon for protection.
I don’t “heart” that garment at all.
Posh is fierce and totally comitted. Unlike MG who thought that a few clear paillettes and see through bits could justify an unspired take on the green plaid flannel shirt and black sweat pants I wear when open sky camping. Or Eva, who doesn’t seem to understand that minimalism is a design choice, not a shorthand elision between the wedding gown and the wedding nightie, while ditching appropriate undergarments. Could either MG’s or Eva’s bodices’ fit more poorly or do more rotten things to their waists in two totally different ways?
Yet hearts sewn together and stacked on her chest like a strutting rooster is commitment to fashion? I’m scared.