We are the Goon Squad ...

Today, we talk fashion. It is everywhere in New York, lurking in dark doorways, waiting for the right moment to nab some poor unsuspecting soul and turn her into one of its minions.

This winter the following things are tres chic for New York belles: full-length puffy coats, fur-trimmed coats (both puffed and non-puffed) and giant, puffy, furry boots.

Aside from a widespread secret yearning to be the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man, insanity is the only explanation for this. I can attest to it appearing unattractive. I could even yield if I thought these things were offering warmth that simply could not be found in something non-puffy and non-furred. But we've all met polarfleece. We know the truth. So unless you're looking for a creative, resourceful use for that seal you clubbed for dinner, there's no excuse for sporting pelts.

But I digress ...

Puffy coats: Unless you've got something to hide (50 lbs. of shrimp, say), why would you choose to look like a grown-up kindergartener? You know what I mean. Your mother made you wear that snowsuit or that ridiculous UGLY quilted tan winter coat (yes, I am talking to you, Mother). Sure, when you're cute and young, you can get away with wearing just about anything. Not so much when you're in your 30s.

Fur trim: You know, if you really, really, really want to ensconce yourself in dead animal (and who doesn't?), just go whole hog and get the whole coat. Fur trim is just a waste of life. It's not keeping you any warmer and, frankly, it looks like 70 percent of the women in New York are being mauled by some furred beast. Just in the head region, though. *gestures wildly around head*

The boots: You know, boots are my friends. I hate to taunt them. By unless a vast tribe of Inuit have moved here, I don't understand the presence of giant mukluks everywhere. I doubt they are water-resistant. Most of them sport all sorts of ties and strings. And in a perfect complement to the head maulings, it often looks as if some poor hapless female has stepped on two Tasmanian devils that just ... won't ... let ... go. I hate when that happens.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to spring so there will be an end to the carnage. I hope. But who knows what Fashion will foist upon us then ...

Until Thursday, my pets ...