Bill Clinton Sadly Folds First Lady Dress Back Into Box
July 9, 2008 | Issue 44•28
CHAPPAQUA, NY—After months of tirelessly supporting his wife on the campaign trail, devoted spouse and former president Bill Clinton breathed a resigned sigh Monday and carefully folded the charcoal silk, fitted sheath dress he had hoped to wear as first lady during next January's inauguration and placed it back in its beautiful box.
The former commander in chief takes one last look at the most beautiful first lady dress in the whole wide world.
The 61-year-old Clinton, who has appeared on the covers of both Time and Newsweek and has recently been lauded for his work as an outspoken advocate for human rights, purchased the Christian Dior gown earlier this year after wife Hillary announced her bid for the presidency. Though he has promised to stand by her until rival Barack Obama is officially named the Democratic nominee in August, Clinton told friends that he "could not bear" to look at the dress any longer.
"A beautiful gown like this shouldn't be wasted on any but the most special of occasions," said Clinton, who, before packing the garment away, spent a quiet moment running his fingers over the expert stitching and delicate cascade of ruffles. "No. This dress deserves to be worn by a real first lady."
After slowly tying the original silk bow around the box and clutching it to his chest for 45 seconds, the former world leader gently placed the dress inside his so-called "first lady hope chest." Sources close to the Clintons have confirmed that the chest includes items the 42nd president had planned to bring with him to a Hillary-led White House, among them a pair of unworn white satin gloves, some hand-blown glass Christmas ornaments, a pewter locket bearing a portrait of his mother, a pressed daisy, two pearl drop earrings, and a handful of wallpaper and fabric swatches.
"My, my, would you just look at this—all dressed up and no place to go," said Clinton, removing a ruby brooch from a small box marked "Final Iraq Pullout." "I suppose the American people want better for their first lady than some pie-eyed boy from Arkansas with a head full of dreams and all the grace of a peeled potato. I only hope Michelle [Obama] or Cindy [Hensley McCain] will have the courage to change those hideous drapes in the Lincoln Bedroom."
While Clinton has vowed never to wear the outfit publicly, he admitted to removing the gown from its box once before, after Hillary won the California and New York primaries. On that occasion, Clinton reportedly stood before his bedroom mirror, held the bodice to his torso, straightened his posture before extending a gloved hand outward and, in honeyed, lilting tones, repeated the line, "Oh, this old thing? Prime Minister Fukuda, you do go on."
Despite her husband's charm and optimism, Sen. Clinton was unable to gain enough delegates to secure the Democratic nomination and will return to her seat in the U.S. Senate. After she announced the suspension of her $212 million campaign, former president Clinton told reporters he was "devastated" that he would never have the chance to stand before the American people on the Capitol steps in the timeless elegance of Dior.
"It was silly of me to waste so much money on such an extravagant outfit, but when I saw it in the store, I thought to myself, 'Bill, that's your inauguration dress,' " Clinton said. "I suppose it's for the best, though. Knowing me, I would have spilled champagne all over it. Still, can you imagine?"
Clinton has denied rumors that he will wear the high-necked, cap sleeve frock at an upcoming gala at Arkansas Children's Hospital. He has also refused to give the one-of-a-kind gown to his daughter, Chelsea, saying she is still years away from getting married and "doesn't have the waist for it."
Clinton added that the most upsetting aspect of packing the tailored first lady dress away was that it meant recognizing that his decades-old dream of being first lady would never come true.
"I remember watching President [John F.] Kennedy's inauguration," said Clinton, clasping his hands to his chest and staring off into the distance. "It was Jan. 20, 1961. He placed his hand on the Bible as everyone watched and took the oath in front of God and Chief Justice Earl Warren. And there beside him was Jackie. Oh, Jackie. In that pillbox hat and that glorious Oleg Cassini masterpiece in greige wool melton. She was a wonder."
"I remember thinking, 'Someday, I'll be president,'" Clinton continued, "'and then, eight years later and largely owing to my own massive public appeal, my wife will become president and I can be the prettiest first lady there ever was.'"
At press time, Clinton was seen in a low-cut black evening gown holding two bottles of champagne as he attempted to gain access to Sen. Barack Obama's campaign bus, telling reporters he only wished to discuss a "key domestic issue" with the presumptive Democratic nominee.Class Of '88 Reunion Attendees Once Again Trick Sue Thorpe Into Thinking Jeff Urban Likes Her
ABERDEEN, ID—While attending her 20-year high school reunion Monday, 38-year-old claims adjuster Sue Thorpe was once again tricked into believing that used-car salesman and former homecoming king Jeff Urban had a crush on her, a replay of a cruel prank first played on Thorpe during her senior prom in 1988. "Becky [Linden] told me that Jeff was real lonely after his divorce, and that he had thought about me a lot over the years," Thorpe said tearfully after being humiliated in front of her entire class when the now 252-pound Urban refused to dance with her. "And Bella [Cortland] said that because Jeff's a notary public now, it's illegal for him to lie, so he had to be telling the truth when she asked Jeff if he liked me and he said yes. Why do they keep doing this to me?" Later that evening, a dejected Thorpe repeated another dark chapter from her past when she got drunk and was impregnated by Louis O'Keefe in a soccer goal.
Hey Everybody, Let's All Go To The Beach And Complain
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The warm weather's upon us, and you know what that means: It's fun and sun and whining time! Just doesn't feel like summer until we hit the surf and sand and bitch about every conceivable thing. So what's say we pile into the hot car, drive through 25 miles of bumper- to-bumper traffic to get to an overcrowded beach, and just kick back and loudly complain about every facet of this seminal summertime experience!
It'll be great. We'll pick a nice spot that's either too close to the ocean, too close to the parking lot, or too close to a harried mom and her three screaming kids who will kick sand all over us. After being cooped up all winter, it sure will feel nice to spend the afternoon soaking up the rays while we engage in needless finger-pointing about who forgot to bring the umbrella. A few hours in the blistering sun and all of our cares will melt away under the crushing weight of a whole new list of minor inconveniences we'll allow to ruin our whole day.
At long last, summer's here and I'll never fit into my bathing suit!
I checked the weather report, and it looks like it's going to be beautiful outside. On a day like today, I can't imagine anywhere we'd rather be miserable than at the beach. Oh sure, we could spend the day moaning at the ballpark or wishing we were anywhere but hiking, but it's hard to beat that fresh ocean breeze, the open horizon, and mile after mile of fun-loving beachgoers we'll watch scornfully from afar. Maybe some of them will start a spontaneous game of Frisbee that we can project a lifetime's worth of hostilities onto. Wouldn't that be fun? I've already decided it won't be!
Of course, all that refusing to be seen flying kites or playing volleyball is going to make us mighty hungry, and nothing says fun in the sun like a beach picnic. Let's forget to pack one! That way, there will be plenty of opportunities to complain about the price of the concession-stand food. That first bite of a boardwalk hot dog is going to bring back so many childhood memories of begrudgingly consuming overcooked hot dogs with my overbearing parents—I'll almost be sad when I no doubt drop it in the sand. After all, I will have paid way too much for it!
We're not just there to eat, though. We're there to swim! And this time of year, the water's going to be the perfect temperature for halfheartedly wading in up to our knees, loudly announcing that our legs have gone numb, and unleashing bloodcurdling screeches at anyone who splashes us. Once I get in that beautiful blue ocean, good luck getting me out fast enough! When it comes to swimming, I'm like a fish who doesn't want to get my hair wet, because I'm too self-absorbed with my appearance!
Oh! And building sand castles! We take ourselves far too seriously to enjoy doing that! Let's be sure to ridicule whoever suggests it first.
The only thing that could complete our day of complaining at the beach would be if one of us got stung by a jellyfish. Then we could spend some quality time together arguing about what the proper treatment for jellyfish stings is, even though none of us has any clue what we're talking about. We'll be having so much fun, we won't even realize we've wasted the better part of an hour on infighting that is totally worthless because there's a first-aid station less than 50 feet away. I guess time flies when you're stubbornly averse to having fun!
We may be beings possessed of free will who can leave the beach any time we want, thus improving everyone else's beach experience, but it wouldn't surprise me if we stay all day. Summer days like this were meant for kicking back, chillaxing, and loudly airing grievances about any little thing that happens to cross our radar. And when the sun sets, we'll ignore its timeless beauty completely in favor of griping about everything from the sunburns we could have easily prevented to the heavy fried food we actually paid money for.
So come on, you Gloomy Guses. Let's pack up a beach bag and haul it 15 miles through burning hot sand. I can't wait another second.
Last one to get sunscreen in his eye is a rotten egg!Stress In Pregnancy Influences Asthma
A recent study shows that if a pregnant woman is exposed to high levels of stress, her child is more likely to develop asthma or allergies later in life. What do you think?
Manager
"Yet another excuse these bloated women will use to get out of doing actual work. Female employees are the absolute worst."
Carly Emerson,
Systems Analyst
"Oh, okay! I just won't get stressed out, then."
Wendy Heller,
Personal Trainer
"Stress this, stress that. When will these researchers understand that my mother just didn't love me enough?"
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