Farewell: Finale Fashion.

As the eclipse sets on my time here in boston, I keep getting jolts of anxiety, chills, and joy.

I decided to make my exit as dramatic as possible. So, next Thursday when I punch out of my final day of work at Northeastern University, I’ll immediately board a jet-plane to Europe. I told my dear friend Sarah of this epic departure to which she replied, “ooooh! I’ve never actually seen it, but I imagine that’s how the final episode of the Mary Tyler Moore show went.” I felt the same way, though this is what the final MTM show looked like:

Betty white played such a better whore than Rue Mclanahan.

I like Rhoda better as a person and a fashion piece than Mary.

Now, Rhoda actually didn’t get a proper finale, which  stinks, but I just love that she KILLS gypsy chic. I mean, a studded kerchief ???!!!

But I do love Rue with this long wavy cut. Older women with longer hair? Why not? Cropped and blue sometimes feels tragic to me, you know, like they’re giving up. If anyone could do it, it’s RUE.

And how could I forget that Dorothy married the guy from Empty Nest? Missing crucial items like that makes me feel like a golden guy. It’s really exemplified in this photo, but my Nana used to watch this show and say, “Those girls wear some SHARP outfits!!” I think she meant like these:

I totally agree for ineffable reasons. Something between gall and dynamite.

The Big 'un.

I love the flaggy accessory O’s sporting. It’s like a victory sash in flames. Incidentally, if you haven’t seen this episode, Ms. Winfrey get’s kinda meta talking about individual purpose, our personal reach, worthiness, and life flow. It was the most Oprah Oprah episode. Even more than the parody of YOU GET A CAR. Great, now I have Oprah does Oprah vertigo.

Oh Rosie, I Lurv ya.

Roseanne once thought Oprah was mad at her for cheating in an arm fight. They didn’t talk for 15 years. True Story.

There’s nothing fashionably spectacular about the last episode of Roseanne, but I will say that it’s creepier than sin. It ends with Roseanne saying the whole show was a story, Dan is dead, Jackie’s a Lesbian (well, duh) and that everything is grave. Then she laughs that weirdo laugh and the scene fades. Yuk, gives me shivers. That aside, I can watch 5 consecutive episodes of this show without blinking or hating myself for tube feasting.

So, what will I wear for my finale? a pair of Aviators, for sure, and an outfit that says this:


About Ricky Tucker

Fashionably set above and below the mason Dixon for cocktail hour. I once owned a black sweat shirt with a singular gash of black puff paint across the front. I called it my nihilist sweater. Like it, my hope is to negate or accentuate the self through attire, basically light up a room.

One comment

  1. carrieleilamlove

    Designing Women! I want to have a “fantasy femme-bitch” league with Julia Sugarbaker and Blanche Devereaux as co-captains. Teach me how to live, ladies. Great post Ricky!

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