Oh why hello there lumpen. I'll bet some of the woefully untrained eyes staring catatonically at these particular specimens of my ubiquitous, iconic silhouette merely see a woman wearing a dress, the same dress, a blue dress to be more specifically unspecific, on three separate occasions. But who else wore a blue dress? Ha ha, that's right, the Devil; brilliant work, not really. Now if your "blog"-enfeebled minds weren't so blithely incapable of retaining even the most basic business memes, you might recall that it is not blue, it's not turquoise, it's not lapis, it's actually cerulean, and also that in 2002, Oscar De La Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns, which became not only the basis for a massive trickle-down ceruleanstravaganza, but by extension the most memorable line of a blockbuster movie I which I might have chosen this moment to wryly and with my eminent good humor, reference. But why? Was it my little joke with Oscar, not coincidentally the designer of this season's dress commemorating the sixth anniversary of the original collection referenced in that little film? Or perhaps was it further meant to conjure images of that other, slightly more plebeian "devil in a blue dress" of recent history and thus comment wryly on the presidential politics and my esteemed publication, which Hillary Clinton this year deemed too "frivolous" to be influential? (Poor dear, her decision to deem herself too "serious" for fashion didn't do a whole lot better for her campaign than her husband's decision to blithely usher in the exodus of those one million "downstream" textile and apparel industry jobs, did it now?) Or to that end, perhaps I'm merely acknowledging the state of the economy, which as we are all well-aware would be right now deep in the throes of recession were it not for the stimulating properties of Ben Bernanke and the chieftains of "aspirational" consumption such as, that's right, me. Horrors, and what do you think will happen to this economy now that my employer is restricting our hordes of expense form-forgers to a a Gulag-esque five lunches a month? Well let's be honest, dears: nothing my colleagues over in the Vogue Subcontinent would bat a Lancomed eyelash about. Which is to say: why are you still reading this? Wherefore the unceasing constant Wintourology on all your silly little gossip sites? Did Tucker Max sexually humiliate no one over the long weekend? Isn't the cocaine better at Elle? Look, here it is, "real talk" as the kids say: I just think it's a pretty dress. And Roger said it brought out the green in my eyes.