Dear Alexander McQueen,
No doubt you, as a devout reader of Fashion Me Fabulous, know that we love you. You have a twisted sense of humor; so do we. You strive for art in clothing; we appreciate the pretty pictures that come from it. You hate Paris Hilton; we have wished she'd just disappear.
We have a theory that sometimes your commercial clothing, especially the pricing, is an elaborate joke on the rich. Will they spend $260 on a scarf just because it's a skull print from the son of a London cabbie? It appears they will. Will they spend over $1000 on a silk sweater with a dog on it, (a sweater that reminds me of nothing so much as the girl from Drop Dead Gorgeous who thinks barking is a beauty pageant talent), just because you've signed it? I don't know, but I do know that thing is tacky.