We are celebrating chickdom here, guys. We are coming out of our respective closets, whether they’re walk-in, hole-in-the-wall, or fab-fantastical Carrie’s, and we are holding the supreme estro-fest. I could not find a single heterosexual guy brave enough to see it with me. It’s ok that you don’t get it. Go watch Indiana Jones again. In other words..... shoo! Or perhaps, shoe!
That's the nice thing about the Internet, isn't it guys? You wouldn't be caught dead at the movie, but you can peek at this Barbie-pink blog and no one will be the wiser. Tsk, tsk. Smooch.
This is an event first and a movie second, so my primary concern was, of course, what to wear. The stiletto cam at the premiere screamed designer heels. Sadly, my Manolo Blahniks were in the shop. Someone else’s shop. But as a loyal fan, I buffed my spike heels and blinged my body to go sit in a dark theater with my sisters. Did I look great? Yes. Could anyone see me? No. Do I feel the need to explain why I did that? Puh-lease.