Cease! In the Name of Decency.

Like all conflagrations it began--and was regarded as--not all that important, a fleeting misunderstanding, a gentle error in judgement. While decent people took tea and talked about the weather, dark forces swirled beneath their linened lives. What was initially thought to be a brisk breeze turned out to be The Storm.

My point? I did not think and at no time thought of wearing a sequined shirt on New Years Eve. I would sooner saw off my arm and lipsync Olivia Newton John to a gathering of Southern Baptists. But, somehow the rumor has taken hold.

The first reports of this surfaced within my immediate family, after sending copies of myself on NYE to Jesse. Jesse replied something like, "and someone certainly knew Fashion by wearing a sequined shirt".

I brushed off this remark the way I would a piece of lint on my blue, cashmere, drop-waist, winter luncheon suit, but before I knew it others picked it up and ran with it. Suddenly I was being sent images of sequined halter tops, sequined sweaters, and sequined clutch purses (I bought one of these). "Almost strangers" stopped me at The Palace to say, "I loved the sequined shirt." THERE WAS NO SEQUINED SHIRT.

The shirt in question was from the 1999/200 collection of Nicole Miller; my initial response to blow it off ("It's LaCroix, sweetie, LaCroix") back-fired and only reinforced the sequin story. True, the silver champagne glasses on the shirt might lead the unassuming fashion parvenu to think of sequins, but REALLY. I am as likely to wear sequins as Barbara Bush is to wear a thong.