
There is seriously no angle from which this doesn't look slouchy and tragic. Did she leave her waist at the hotel as collateral for borrowing the window treatments?

And it doesn't help that she looks so SAD in it.

Like, Naomi, if you're going to wear a drapey caftan-style thing, THIS is how you do it. Look DELIGHTED with yourself, like your companion here does. Look like Blanche Devereaux's soul mixed with Dorothy's penchant for volume. Because then, instead of wanting to hug you and ask what's wrong, we'll think, "Oh, Naomi, that is crazetastic and you have CLEARLY lost your marbles, but I really want to take you out for a gin fizz and talk to you about Easy Spirits and rocking chairs."
