Dr. Thorpenstein: You know what? I've been pretty down with all these costumes so far, but this Fozzie dress is just not particularly trampy whatsoever.
Zackula: It has a classical shape, but I think they've outdone themselves with laziness. You're essentially dressing up as Fozzie Bear's head.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Sexy Only The Head of Fozzie. You and a friend can team up and she can be Sexy The Torso of Fozzie.
Zackula: Sort of a slightly sexualized Muppet Voltron.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I feel like this is only slightly too sexy to be an every day sexy Muppet dress. Like maybe your dad says, "oh no, young lady, you're not leaving the house in that Fozzie dress."
Zackula: *Gets out measuring tape and measures from the waist to the bottom of Fozzie's neck.* "Absolutely not. I don't care where Caroline's Fozzie torso starts, in my house the neck ends below the knee."
Dr. Thorpenstein: But as a costume? I mean, not even as a sexy costume, just a costume? If you go trick or treating, people will absolutely call you on it. "No way, you can't just wear your sexy Fozzie dress and call it a costume. Get the hell out of here."
Zackula: Now add Mammoth feet and we can talk.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
Fashion SWAT... the fashion industry is obsessed with impracticality. We know that what designers create was never meant to be worn by the grimy masses, but that doesn't somehow diminish how ridiculous many of these costumes are. Make no mistake, they are costumes, and like a Halloween prize pageant we will turn our discerning gaze on the grievous fashion misfires of Paris, Milan, and New York. We're not pulling any punches, and we're definitely not interested in making any friends. We're Joan Rivers without Melissa Rivers to temper our screeching. We're the Fashion Police in jack boots. We are Fashion SWAT.