After watching that semi-boring movie about Halston, it got me in the mood to revisit one of my fave psychos from fashion eras past: Pat Cleveland.
Her name is maybe the least chic name of any model ever, but being chic wasn’t really her thing, and somehow that’s chic. Right? Dance-prancing and arm-waving down Dior runways with her glorious mane, which she famously donned her “magic carpet,” was more of her thing. It’s with a heavy heart that I reveal her current state of being, but time does have a tendency of turning a good psycho into a mom psycho. Maybe mom shit just weirds me out because I didn’t grow up with a mom so they’re basically aliens to me. Old, judgmental, aliens with more Hermès than me.