Quotes From Around Yon Blogosphere

Women's Wear Daily has commissioned fashion designers from Betsey Johnson to Peter Som to imagine outfits Michelle Obama might wear to the inauguration. The resulting slide show . . . is full of sumptuous looks: I favor the clean lines of Isaac Mizrahi's sorbet-colored gown and the sparkly white kimono envisaged by Diane Von Furstenberg. (Monique Lhuillier should keep her superfluous ruffles on the red carpet, if you ask me.) But paging through the entries, I was struck by how incapable the world's top fashion designers are of sketching Michelle. The fashion world is notoriously inhospitable to black women -- if Michelle Obama lands the cover of Vogue, as has been rumored, she’ll be one of the few black nonmodels ever to grace it -- but these sketches suggest a discomfort with blackness that’s truly startling.

-- JULIA TUNER

Madonna's rather predicable new ad campaign for Louis Vuitton will appear in February, but of course, the photos are already out and about.

According to WWD, designer Marc Jacobs saw one of her concerts in Paris, and in a burst of uninspired synergy,"I just blurted out, 'I think we should do Madonna.' I was totally just blown away by it, and moved by her performance, by what she had to say, and her energy."

-- KATE C

Alex Rodriguez said he isn't shagging Madonna. Sure. He's just hanging in Miami, Mexico City and Brazil with her, platonically, and maybe buying an apartment with her, platonically, and meeting secretly with her in restaurants, as friends. He also denied riding on a private jet with Madonna, so I guess this is supposed to be someone else who was photographed with her?

-- RYAN TATE

One great thing about traditional radio—which has suffered thanks to the iPod—is the surprise and spontaneity it can provoke. Let's say there's this song that you haven't heard in a million years. Let's say it's "Cry to Me" by Solomon Burke, it pops up on the radio while you're driving to work and takes you back to junior high when a certain teenie bopper movie featured it in a sexy scene. Deliciously exciting. So you go purchase the track on iTunes, and there it is for you to listen to, forever, whenever.

Except that when you decide to listen to it, it's just not as exciting as that moment when you rediscovered it on the radio. Funny. Even funnier: when the song comes on the radio after you've bought it, and it still somehow sounds better than when you just listened to it on your iPod!

-- ALEX SCHMIDT

I went to dinner last night at a pretty nice place and the waiter kept referring to be in the third person:

"Does the lady want any dessert?" "Does she like her wine?" "Is the soup to her liking?"

He did not refer to my male companion in the third person and it was sort of hard to tell whether he was directing these questions at me or my dinner date.

Can someone please explain this to me? Am I somehow made invisible or mute by having a vagina? Was I zapped back into 1952 without realizing it? Did the waiter expect my friend to order for me? Was he shocked when a lady opened her own mouth and real live words came out describing real independent choices?

Note to waiters: Not cool.

-- COURTNEY

Just when you thought you were having fun with Twitter, instant messaging, Facebook and the like, somebody has to go and ruin it. You and your friends were probably just getting relaxed, being the “cool kids” on the block and keeping up with all of the latest trends and news on gadgets, entertainment and social ideals. Well, the Republicans have decided to take their pudgy fingers, pick up some newer keyboards, and mess up the whole darned thing for ya.

-- JAZZ SHAW

One of the most sensual (and arguably glamorous) images of the past year was the sight of a Tom Ford cologne bottle pressed invitingly into the recesses of a woman's pelvis by her red lacquered nails (Jungle Red, no doubt). Sex sells, and for that reason alone, this cologne should go flying off the shelf. But more importantly, it actually smells wonderful. With just a few strategic squirts, you can undo one more button on your shirt, bare your immaculately-manscaped chest, and begin a Holiday party filled with models and bottles.

-- VIRGINIA