Crimes of Fashion: Blanche Devereaux

During our formative years, my sisters and I had unlimited access when it came to our television viewing. Our parents set no boundaries, which probably seemed perfectly safe and acceptable back when we only had a dozen channels to choose from.

But then one day, a miracle occurred. A magical device called a cable box arrived, and our options suddenly skyrocketed from a handful of networks to hundreds of them. Using my kid radar, I quickly found the family-friendly bounty that Nickelodeon had to offer...back when it was GOOD, with shows like You Can't Do That On Television and Double Dare.

And then there were those other channels...the ones with slightly more adult themes. In particular, HBO provided quite an education when it came to four letter words and female anatomy. I'll never forget landing on the cult 80's skin-flick Hardbodies and learning a thing or two.

And my parents? They were nowhere to be found.

Despite our seemingly limitless boob-tube boundaries, there was a fine line drawn when it came to one specific program. The Golden Girls was a show that was strictly off limits. I was told that the main characters were "dirty old ladies" and that I wasn't allowed to even think of watching their deviant antics.

The sexiest character of them all was undoubtedly Blanche Elizabeth Devereaux. (Yes, that's right...her initials spelled BED.) She was the original southern cougar. And it's in her titillating honor that I proudly present some of her most notorious 80's fashion faux pas moments.

Who said that the over sixty set shouldn't wear something naughty in the boudoir? Blanche knew that nothing lured men into her bedroom faster than libidinous lingerie. But instead of taking the obvious "less is more" route with her nighties, Blanche occasionally opted to go for the pioneer woman look:

And on those chilly Miami nights, Blanche would add a bit of shabby chic flair to her bedroom attire by sporting a vomitrocious, muumuu-like robe paired with a bulky, colorless thrift store scarf. Most people think Kurt Cobain introduced the grunge look to America, but Blanche was obviously one step ahead of him:

In the 80's, jazzercise and Jane Fonda's low-impact aerobics were very popular with the seniors. Blanche kept her cottage cheese ass in check while attempting to remain fashion-forward. She knew that nothing complimented a leotard and tights better than a sunshine yellow blouse cinched soundly at the naval:


For a swank evening out on the prowl, Blanche sometimes ended up looking startlingly like Shrek's lumpy, lumbering grandmother. In those instances, she was clever enough to grab the nearest old lady and use her as camouflage:

As most fashion-minded individuals do, Blanche occasionally looked to others for guidance. In this particular ensemble, she used Tweety Bird and the head quarterback of the Miami Dolphins as inspiration:

Sometimes, however, enormous shoulder pads and head-to-toe lemon yellow threads would make way for other sassy evening trends. Blanche was clearly not afraid of cowboy couture. Fringe was not to be feared:

When all else failed, Blanche would truck on down to K-Mart and load up on "blue light special" chiffon scarves. Dorothy and Rose were incapable of competing with Blanche's layered look:

Finally, showing off a bit of geriatric cleavage was Blanche's fool-proof way of rescuing any age inappropriate fashion disaster. When you've got it, flaunt it:

And there you have it, kids! What was learned from this provocative journey through Blanche's tawdry 80's couture? Clearly, more is more. Shoulder pads are always a good idea. Sixty is sexy. And you're never too old to be young.

Right Blanche?

That's a wrap!

ALF: "Keepin' the Faith"

Season One, Episode Seven

Max Wright was no shrinking violet when it came to discussing his patriarchal role on the television series ALF. He harbored great disdain for the tension-filled studio and endless hours that it took to shoot the technically daunting show. When asked about his on-set experience, Wright said that he was "hugely eager to have ALF over with.”

I share his sentiment completely.

Lock up your house cats! ALF has just crash-landed.


ALF's theme song contains a montage of the Tanner family's top-secret alien houseguest irritating and harassing everybody...one by one. He shoves a video camera into the bewildered face of Willie, the dad, as he stumbles in the front door. He barges into the bathroom while Kate, the mom, is half naked. He also manages to interrupt a private phone conversation and disrupt homework time...all in less than a minute.

In my opinion, ALF has just provided the Tanners with more than enough reason to haul his ass out to Area 51 and dump him off indefinitely. But they don't. They're suckers for punishment, I guess.

As the episode officially gets underway, the Tanner clan is in the midst of a heated family meeting to discuss their financial woes. Willie reveals that, like Pam Anderson's boobs, their phone and grocery bills have inflated to epic proportions.



Within moments, ALF barges in and rudely interrupts the discussion. While shoving fistfuls of potato chips into his mouth, he bitterly accuses the entire Tanner family of shutting him out and demands to know the reason why.



By his own admission in this scene, ALF is a nuisance, makes pointless suggestions, interrupts everybody and never lets anyone get a word in edgewise. So yeah…they’re shutting him out. Wouldn’t you?

Duh.

And therein lays the basis for all one hundred and two episodes. The Tanners have to suffer gladly while an obnoxious hairball accosts them and disrupts their otherwise happy lives…all for the sake of comedy. Problem is, by the seventh episode it’s just not funny anymore.

While devouring a second bag of potato chips, ALF admits that the outrageous phone bill is the result of a long-distance call he placed to Germany. As he waxes poetic about why he felt a need to converse auf Deutsch, ALF gobbles down an entire plate of Kate’s freshly baked cookies. He's too busy pigging out to notice that the entire family is giving him the stink-eye.

At this point, not even PETA would fault the Tanners for stuffing ALF and mounting him over the fireplace.

Later that night, ALF is in full-on martyr mode. And what’s a lonely martyr to do in the wee hours of the morning? Why, bang on the piano until someone wakes up, of course! Kate emerges from her bedroom, looking as tired and haggard as a preoperative Joan Rivers. ALF whines to Kate that his feelings are hurt because the family thinks he's a freeloader and a parasite...which are qualities that he openly admitted to possessing earlier in the episode, but never mind. And get this: Kate APOLOGIZES to the little varmint.

ALF wants to prove his worth, but doesn't know how. After giving it exactly six seconds of thoughtful consideration, he does what any rational person would do...he decides to go into the beauty supply business! I'm not joking. From hereon out, it’s an unfunny comedy of Mary Kay-style errors.

ALF calls a cosmetics company and charges a thousand dollars worth of beauty products to Willie's credit card:

ALF gives Lynn a failed makeover:

ALF gives Brian a failed makeover:

ALF throws a makeover party for the entire neighborhood and forces Kate and Willie to host it:

It’s a laugh riot, isn’t it?

As the episode grinds to an anti-climactic conclusion, the Tanners discover that they've earned just enough cash from cosmetic sales to eliminate the debt that ALF selfishly racked up. I can't help but think, though, that no amount of money will ever be enough to cover the therapy that this family is going to require. Gutting ALF and turning him into throw rug would be a much more cost-effective solution, wouldn't you say?

Watch your back, fuzzy face.

That’s a wrap!

My Two Dads: "SoHo's By You"

Season One, Episode Two

Wolverine Dad and Uptight Dad are peering lovingly at their sleeping daughter. Wolverine Dad, with his neatly groomed beard and shag carpet-like chest hair, is grinning wildly. He’s very happy about being a father. So is Uptight Dad. Love is all around.

Is your stomach turning? Well toss back a shot of Pepto-Bismol. We’re watching My Two Dads!


As the saxophone-ridden theme song begins to wail, little Nicole is being led by her two fathers through an animated world that is so 80’s it makes Pac-Man seem contemporary. Neon abounds as the main lyrical content repeats over and over again:

“You can count on me! No matter what you do! You can count on me! No matter where you go! You can count on me!”

We can count on you. Got it. Moving on.

The doorbell rings. Who could it be? Ah, yes. It’s the judge who recently awarded joint custody of Nicole to Wolverine Dad and Uptight Dad. You see, Nicole’s mother passed away without knowing who the bio daddy truly was…hence, multiple fathers. It's very Maury Povich. And if the plot sounds familiar, it should. Throw in a few Abba songs and you’ve got Mamma Mia.

The judge has arrived with a brand new social worker to oversee Nicole’s home life. Immediately, Wolverine Dad emerges from the bathroom…half naked…clad to the navel in acid-washed jeans. Unlike before, however, he’s proudly displaying every last inch of his nappy body hair from the waist up. Something about it makes me feel slightly uncomfortable...in a Dateline predator of the week sort of way.

I must pause to point out that the 80’s were a different time. Manscaping was non-existent. Rather, men seemed to delight in being furrier than the Snuffleupagas. Don’t believe me? Just ask Tom Selleck or Jon Bon Jovi. The woolly mammoth look was trés chic.

It becomes immediately apparent that Wolverine Dad has laid more pipe in town than the New York City sewer department. Because of his previous “relations” with the new social worker, the judge quickly dismisses her from the case. The social worker understands…and then she immediately invites Wolverine Dad over for another booty call.

Uhhhh, and this is supposed to be a show for kids?

Uptight Dad enters, spewing more anxieties than Woody Allen during that ugly Soon-Yi fiasco. He doesn’t enjoy commuting to Wolverine Dad’s artsy-fartsy loft every day. He suggests that Nicole move with him into his fancy-schmancy downtown high-rise.

What’s a girl to do?

Fast forward to Uptight Dad giving Nicole a tour of HIS place. The problem is that the design of his apartment is so cheap and shoddy that it’s obviously a very temporary set. Consider for a moment:

Uptight Dad's bare-bones, poorly-lit nook:

Wolverine Dad's expansive, swingin' pad:

Where do YOU think all three seasons are going to take place? It’s a no-brainer. The next ten minutes of arguing and tug-of-war have just been rendered totally pointless.

Fast forward to a parental meeting at Nicole’s school. She carefully and skillfully explains to her daddy duo why she doesn’t want to be split between two different homes. Her speech is poised and mature and confident. Considering the fact that her mother just kicked the bucket, Nicole is incredibly well-adjusted. My sister cried for an entire week just because she lost her retainer…but never mind.

Several extended arguments and melodramatic speeches later...and SURPRISE...Nicole gets to live in the neon-encrusted artsy-fartsy loft after all! And Uptight Dad is going to join ‘em, which should provide him with plenty of fodder for comedic tirades over the next sixty episodes.

The cherry on top of the cake is that the judge, due to Wolverine Dad being a complete man-whore, is going to personally oversee Nicole’s new parental situation. And why shouldn't she? It's not as if she has a whole courtroom full of child welfare cases to attend to. Pish. That can wait. This particular trio is clearly worth obsessing over.

Additionally, in an effort to be even closer to the gang, the judge bought the building they're now living in. Wolverine Dad and Uptight Dad are going to have to suffer her stalker-like interruptions gladly...morning, noon and night.

The whole situation seems tiresomely co-dependent...almost in a Fatal Attraction sort of way, except without Glenn Close and that horrific bathtub scene. Fun-loving Wolverine Dad looks particularly depressed. The ancient, disapproving judge is totally going to cut down on his womanizing and bedroom escapades.

If that isn't a buzz kill, I don't know what is.

That’s a wrap!

Blossom: "Blossom Blossoms"

Season One, Episode One

I have a very serious question to ask you. Stop smirking, please. This is no joke. Have you ever experienced that not-so-fresh feeling? YOU HAVE? Well today you’re in luck because we're about to watch a very special episode of Blossom!

A word to the wise: if excessive talk about tampons makes you feel all funny and squishy inside, DON'T PROCEED. This episode is loaded with boxes and boxes of 'em.

Are you wearing your obnoxious floral hat? Good. Because the opening song is about to kick into high gear!

Blossom's theme is beyond cheerful. It's bright. It's bubbly. It's irritatingly upbeat. And God help me, I love it. As the credits begin to roll, little Blossom is leaping and spinning all around her bedroom like a Whirling Dervish. Honestly, she seems to be working up quite a sweat. I can practically smell the Teen Spirit radiating from her pores. Her infectious energy is making me want to grab the nearest oversized beige sweater and join in.

In the very first scene, Blossom, played by the oh-so distinctive Mayim Bialik, is at the drug store on a very serious mission. You see, Blossom has blossomed. And now she's in dire need of some emergency feminine hygiene products.

Please note that this scene provides a very generous indicator that if you have testicles, this show probably isn't for you.

Blossom swiftly tosses a big ol' box of Super Absorbant Tampex into her cart and makes a direct beeline for the check-out counter. Little does she know, sheer horror awaits her on the other side of the cash register. The store clerk happens to be none other than GIOVANNI RIBISI! How will Blossom ever manage to survive this embarassment? I’m guessing she’ll run home and fire off a letter to the editor of YM magazine...and odds are very good that they'll award her personal tampon tragedy four stars on the "I Want To Die" meter.

At this moment in the proceedings, I must point out that little Mayim Bialik is a real charmer. She’s perky and peppy and beaming with sunshine. This simple observation leads me to believe that Mayim must have been a complete bitch in real life. Are you with me on that?

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Later that day, Blossom is chillin’ upstairs with her BFF, Six. The two of them are chattering away about the many varieties of sanitary napkins available in the marketplace. They're also lamenting their newly arrived menstrual cycles. Ya know...the usual girl talk. Blossom, seeming very distressed, clearly isn't coping well with the recent arrival of Aunt Flo.

Maybe I’m lacking compassion here, but I think little Blossom needs to buck up about her newfound womanhood. Sure, she’s surfing the crimson wave…but she can still hike, swim and even horseback ride! See? It’s not so bad.

Meanwhile, Blossom’s brothers are downstairs making an amatuer horror movie. Anthony is an ex-drug addict. And Joey is stupid. TAH-DAH! That's pretty much all you need to know about these boys. Their characters are as thin as Lindsay Lohan after a week-long crack binge.

Hold your horses! Look who's home! It's Blossom's recently divorced dad! Isn’t he hip? Isn’t he cool? He certainly doesn’t remind me of my father. He's a musician...and he has a teeny-tiny diamond stud in his ear to prove it. With looks and charm like that, Blossom's dad must be a real player. Too bad his entire facade is blown by the mom jeans that are hugging his ass from here to high heaven.

And now ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for Blossom’s fantasy dream sequence. Hot diggety! Who do you suppose little hormonal Blossom is fantasizing about whilst she slumbers? Luke Perry, perhaps? Or maybe those fun-lovin' New Kids on the Block? No siree. Blossom is dreaming about Phylicia Rashad. Yes, you heard me correctly. Phylicia Rashad. Much to Blossom's glee, Phylicia is waxing poetic about the joys of menstruation. She's even using an oversized bag of icing to create an edible visual aid depicting two ovaries on top of a giant sheet cake. It’s quite unsettling, actually. And it’s causing my testosterone level to plummet to zero.

Eventually, Blossom returns to planet earth and proclaims her newfound womanhood to her family. In return, her scrumtrelescent dad organizes a big group outing to celebrate this special moment in their lives. Blossom even guilts her poor father into giving her a whiz-bang new hairsyle to mark the occasion. It’s emasculating, yes...but that should come as no surprise to any sane member of the viewing audience.

And that’s it, kids. The Russo family is headin' out for Chinese food, and the rest of us are left to ponder the very special episode that we endured. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure that I just grew a tiny ovary of my very own.

As Joey would say, “WOAH!”

That's a wrap!

227: "Pilot"

Season One, Episode One

227 was created as a star vehicle for Marla Gibbs. She rose to fame by playing Florence, the hilarious maid on the long-running Jeffersons series. Unfortunately, Marla's 227 character, Mary Jenkins, was the opposite of hilarious. To put it kindly, Mary Jenkins was an abysmal drag. And to make matters worse, the network bigwigs created a much more vivacious counterpart that constantly stole her thunder. But we’ll get to that later.

Pull up a milk crate. The fun is about to begin!

"There's no place like home!"

Sure, the 227 theme song lyrics are based on a cliché that’s older than Regis Philbin…but who cares? It has a really good beat and you can dance to it. Plus, just look at all those flashy Washington, D.C. sights whizzing by under the credits! There's the Capitol, the incredibly phallic Washington Monument, and the hilarious inner city ghetto! YAY! Let's go there! Ghettos are fun.

It’s mid-afternoon, and Mary is outside enjoying a piping hot mug of coffee with her best girlfriend, Rose. They're both perched atop a couple of milk crates on the front stoop. Apparently, Mary and Rose have oodles of spare time on their hands. Don’t worry, ladies. Those dishes upstairs will wash themselves. Kick your feet up and relax.

Within seconds, the clucking begins:

“Girl, they haven’t picked up the garbage yet?”

“Noooooo, girl!”

We’re only eleven seconds into the first scene, and Mary is starting to bitch and moan about everything…the garbage, the neighbors, the building's superintendent. Mary is like a little razor-tongued teapot. Just look at that hand-on-hip action!

Oh, Mary. You’re not fun. Your gal-pal Rose must have the patience of Job.

A few minutes later, Jackée Harry's character Sandra makes her grand entrance from a limousine that we never actually get to see. Sandra is festooned in cheap, synthetic apparel that can still be found at places like Deb or Fashion Bug Plus. Mary openly hates Sandra for her slutty demeanor and enormous shoulder pads. And, I suspect, Marla Gibbs hates Jackée Harry for instantly surpassing her in popularity with the audience. There’s no hiding it. The scene-stealing, scenery-chewing battle is well underway. These two actresses are gnawing the set to smithereens. GAME ON, bitches!

Uh-oh. Don’t look now. Here comes yet another person for Mary to hate. Calvin has a paper bag on his head and he is chasing Mary’s daughter while claiming to be Freddy Krueger. I can’t pretend to understand the reason for the bag. Calvin just seems to be...well, a little special. Based on Mary’s reaction to him, however, he’s apparently an 80’s version of Osama bin Laden. She promptly chews him up and spits him out. Suck it, Calvin. You're not wanted here.

Now Mary is yelling at Rose for giving her daughter ice cream money.

And now Mary is yelling at the garbage man for being late.

And now Mary is yelling at the washing machine.

Mary is a drag. Bring back Jackée.

In between all the hate, Mary discovers that the superintendent of her building has unexpectedly died. And word on the street is that he forked control of the building over to cheap, taudry Sandra as payment for, ummm…how should I phrase it? Services rendered! Mary, fearing retaliation, begins searching for a new place to live.

Karma's a bitch, isn’t it Mary?

And now kids, grab your six–shooters and step right up. It’s time for a SHOWDOWN IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM! Mary and Sandra are having a good ol' fashioned girl fight. The real-life tension between the two actresses is as thick as their synthetic wigs. The harsh words are flying back and forth…betwixt and between continued over-use of the words "GIRL" and "CHILD."

Flash forward. The superintendent’s last will and testament is about to be read…in…the laundry room? I guess the superintendent didn’t get out much...or the producers were too cheap to spring for a more appropriate set. Either way, the moment we've been waiting for is at hand. The building…now...belongs…to...ROSE? According to the will, Rose gets the building because she made the best apple pie the superintendent ever tasted.

Uh, WHAT? Come again? Please tell me that’s some sort of euphemism. If not, I guess I need to call Betty Crocker and start baking. I want to own a building, too.

It’s a happy ending for all…except Sandra. But she need not worry. Mary might get to keep her apartment, but she’s about to spend the next five seasons trying to crawl out from underneath Jackée Harry's voluptuous, busty shadow.

Take that, Mary Jenkins.

That’s a wrap!

Full House: "Our Very First Show"

Season One, Episode One

This is it, people. I'm about to embark on a journey through the good, the bad, and the ugly. Sitcoms. We love them. We hate them. And we love to hate them. I am going to watch a variety of classic sitcom treasures and then report my findings back to all of you wonderful people out there in the dark.

And what better show to begin with than Full House?! Danny Tanner, Uncle Jesse, Uncle Joey and those damned Olsen Twins. I spent many hours with the Tanner clan as a youth in the 80's and 90's. It makes the mind reel, actually. And now it's time to resurrect their ghosts from the bowels of my adolescent mind.

Ready? Let's do this thing.

The TV theme song is a lost art. And I'll admit it, Full House has a pretty darn good one. It's catchy. It's spirited. It's LONG. And it features a really bad rear-view Bob Sagat stand-in fishing at the pier. Watch for yourself. That's not the Danny Tanner you know and love. It's a failed look-alike wearing ill-fitting, up-the-butt pants.

As the episode begins, Danny is giving his mother the boot. Ever since his wife died, Danny's mom has been helping him raise his dainty trio of daughters...DJ, Stephanie and Michelle. But now, for the sake of comedy, poor mom is being replaced by a couple of younger, hipper models...specifically, a rocker dude with a leather fetish and a funny guy that isn't very funny.

Studly Jesse is moving into Stephanie's former room and comedian-at-large Joey Gladstone is moving into...the alcove? Oh, poor Joey. Maybe if he was HOT like Uncle Jesse, he'd get a room of his own, too. Jesse clearly needs a secluded space so he can get his freak on with lots of hot babes. Joey...doesn't.

Now that DJ and Stephanie are new roomies, they're doing the classic sit-com "dividing the room in half" thing. I love these tried and true devices. You go, DJ! Mark your territory! Stake your claim! You know that Stephanie can't wait to get her grubby little hands all over your Paula Abdul poster and your Rave hairspray.

Speaking of tried and true (code for tired and stale) Jesse and Joey are about to change Michelle's loaded diaper. Let the hijinks begin! I predict a HILARIOUS moment where they overreact to the noxious odor of an Olsen twin Hershey squirt. Yup, there it is! And now that poor baby is being wrapped in paper towels. This is some good shit. Literally. They ought to take another look inside that discarded diaper, because I'm pretty sure Mary-Kate is pooing gold.

Danny is home from work. And DJ, frustrated by the newly cramped living conditions, has run away. Oh, but she hasn't gone far...which is lucky for us because we only have a few minutes left to wrap this mutha up. She has moved all of her personal belongings into the garage...including...her phone? Wow. Maybe I can get little eleven-year-old DJ to come over and install my new DSL.

And now...wait for it...wait for it...it's time for the heart-to-heart scene. Cue the soft, tender music. Here comes the big, emotional dialogue between father and daughter. DJ needn't feel bad. Mom has gone toe-up and has been instantly replaced by a couple of slacker uncles...but they're still a family. And they must stick together. Awwww! Little DJ is going to move back into that crowded house. Thank God. The garage set isn't pretty.

For the grand finale, the cast is gathering 'round cute little Michelle's crib for a good ol' family song-fest! And what's their song of choice? The Flintstones theme. What the? Yes. It's happening. It's actually happening. Welcome to Randomville. Population: 6. We're off to a peculiar beginning, folks. Roll the damn credits.

That's a wrap!