we all know i like QVC. and i tolerate some pretty lowest-common-denominator stuff, even if only for the tragicomic entertainment of it. i have soldiered through irish halloween; i have wondered what it would be like to wear a scent that would make ernest borgnine want to have sex with me. i have sat in stunned silence, taking notes, while the true antichrist makes his appearance at holidaytime, along with his black velvet-clothed, platinum blonde wife, and black velvet-clothed, village of the damned daughters.
QVC has now gotten involved with the (excuse me if i don't put a link here) red hat society. maybe some of you know about this already. i didn't. unless i blocked it out. if i hadn't known i was watching QVC, i would have thought it was a teleplay of a kurt vonnegut story. it is vile. it is demeaning. and it is predatory, taking the money of the weak and the lonely while making fools of them in ugly cheap clothing and "lifestyle" accessories. because, for those of you who don't know, to be in your full regalia for the red hat society, you have to have a bunch of red and purple cheap shit hanging off of you everywhich way. and also -- the live studio audience and viewers and shoppers at home were reminded -- it's IMPORTANT to purchase only the "officially licensed" merchandise, that has no identifier other than being RED and PURPLE -- when red and purple are (i checked it out) FREE to the world (as are joy and happiness, which it appears the red hat society believes they are selling in an official capacity as well).
the "society" is for women over 50. who decided that women over 50 were so automatically pathetic that they would need the bovine beatitudes of identically-dressed women in the same age demographic to make them feel "joy" and "love life"? trust me, tova borgnine ain't there. joan rivers ain't there. and martha stewart, regardless of how her misfortunes thrill me, would be in the green room along with tova and joan and elaine stritch tearing these doddering red-hatters each a new orifice, i am certain, if anyone suggested to her that she should "join". the list of shit-kicking women over fifty who would chew off the hand that tried to put a red hat on their heads is really endless. reader challenge: come up with the list. double reader challenge: put your name on it. triple reader challenge: then throw the list away and forget everybody except yourself. it's not a club.
I am sick to think of the decades' worth of needlework and textile experience that must have been in that live studio audience last night -- but of course, why knit your own hat (even if it HAS to be red and purple) when "Lady Max" is onstage telling you it's so IMPORTANT to get the OFFICIALLY LICENSED MERCHANDISE?
i used to work in special education. i have been at christmas parties held by the united states navy, given for combined special education facilities in eastern pennsylvania. at these parties, held in what was essentially an airplane hangar, batman, gumby, "the mask", and other costumed characters did the macarena with adults with down's syndrome, balloon "art" on their heads and icing on their faces. these parties had more meaning and dignity than seeing those horrible, desperate women of the red hat society in the studio audience at QVC.
if they were all murderers, with really poor interpersonal skills, i could understand it. "you have to wear your red hats and purple dresses, ladies, to remember the JOY. and that you LOVE LIFE. and if you see any other ladies wearing red hats and purple dresses, you should NOT destroy them. they are LIKE YOU in their LOVE of LIFE and JOY."
but i bet they do attempt to destroy each other anyway, all the time. the red hat society has provided them with new ways to "come together" and identify those who have "come together" -- which always means new ways to shut people out. i bet the infighting in the red hat society is pretty damned amusing. adult children the world over probably hear their mothers bitching about it all the time. "she acted like my outfit wasn't purple enough." etc.
ah, to be the outcast heretic in a herd of stupid pathetic women who think fifty is "old", but wear prescribed clown outfits -- officially licensed -- to feel "young".
what an edict. glossy, thin, and easily smudged, like a page from an old copy of good housekeeping that's been thumbed through in the doctor's waiting room far too many times.
but of course (of course) i would like it if men were allowed in. does anybody remember gary from the "boyd's bears" hours on QVC? he was this fabulous crossdressing MANIAC. see, you watch long enough, you see good stuff.