Well, well, well. Look who’s back. Welcome to another edition of Toast Talk, where I share my very important thoughts on life, fashion, and the questionable decisions my mother continues to make on my behalf.
Today, I took my usual afternoon nap (beauty sleep is a full-time job, darling), and I found myself reminiscing about last month’s POM Fashion Show. Sigh. The glitz. The glamour. The paparazzi. The audacity of my mother thinking she’s in charge of my wardrobe.
I must admit, I do miss it.
Now, let’s get one thing straight. My mom seems to think I’m some kind of little princess who wants to prance around in pretty dresses. Dresses? For me? Absolutely not. I’m a bandana girl through and through. I have a reputation to uphold, and quite frankly, ruffles are a commitment I never agreed to.
But I suppose I can appreciate a good fashion moment when I see one.
And let me tell you, there were some FLY POMS in the building. These little divas showed up dressed to impress, serving looks like they had personal stylists, brand deals, and a tiny assistant carrying their treats. The fashion was fabulous, the energy was immaculate, and the confidence? Unmatched.
There were even some talented little Poms showing off specialty tricks and tackling obstacle courses. Adorable, really. Very impressive.
Would I participate? Let’s not get carried away. I came to be admired, not to do homework.
The Outfit Situation (A.K.A. My Mother’s Last-Minute Panic)
Now, I do need to address a small detail about my own runway moment.
My mother was, how shall I put this… UNPREPARED.
While other Poms were arriving in designer outfits that probably cost more than her monthly coffee budget, my mom was digging through her craft drawer, pulling out fancy old buttons and reaching for the hot glue gun like she was competing on a crafting show with a 10-minute deadline.
Buttons. Hot glue. Pure desperation.
And somehow, she managed to put together an outfit for yours truly.
Was it couture? Debatable.
Was it fashion-forward? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Did I still make it to Best in Show?
YOU BET I DID.
Because, darling, you can put me in a designer gown, a handmade masterpiece, or absolutely nothing but my favorite bandana, and I’m still going to be the cutest girl in the room. Some of us are simply born with it. My mother just happens to be responsible for the occasional wardrobe malfunction.
Chanel, a Little Wave & An Unfair Advantage
Now, I will give credit where credit is due. The winner was decked out in CHANEL.
CHANEL, people.
I mean, what was I supposed to do with that? Compete with a luxury fashion house? My mother was hot-gluing buttons together five minutes ago.
And then came the wave.
This little diva gave the cutest, most perfectly timed wave, and honestly? It was pretty much game over. The crowd loved it, the judges loved it, and I’m fairly certain she knew she had everyone wrapped around her tiny little paw.
Was I impressed? Unfortunately, yes.
Was I going to let her know that? Absolutely not.
Congratulations, gorgeous. Enjoy your moment. I’ll be over here accepting compliments and pretending I wasn’t even trying.
Until Next Time, Darlings…
If you missed our POM Fashion Show, don’t panic. You haven’t missed your only chance to see the fluff, the fashion, and the occasional mother scrambling to assemble an outfit with craft supplies.
This fabulous event is becoming an annual tradition, which means you have plenty of time to prepare your outfits, practice your signature wave, and perhaps hire a stylist who knows what they’re doing.
As for me? I’ll be accepting wardrobe proposals, provided they include a bandana, zero unnecessary athletic activities, and a reasonable treat budget.
Until then, stay fabulous, stay paws-itively confident, and remember: fashion fades, but being ridiculously cute is forever.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another afternoon nap scheduled.
- Toast the Host
Your favorite little diva. Your fashion critic. Your Best in Show girl.