So I’ve resolved in 2005 to establish the muumuu as the height of New York City fashion.
I’ll start in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. First I’ll purchase muumuus from Discount Warehouse on Grand Avenue and emblazon them with slogans like “I’ve Got a Trust Fund, But I’ll Still Cut You” and “You Don’t Like My Muumuu, Motherfucker? Four of my tallest, gauntest girlfriends will wear them with razor-blade earrings, jelly bracelets, and New Wave slouch boots. They’ll parade up and down Bedford Avenue glowering through their maroon-tinted aviator lenses.
Muumuus. So one year from now. You heard it here first.