The people in the Sundance catalog don’t know yet
by Kelly O'Connor McNees
Maybe it’s the heat — after all, it’s always hot where they are. Even in the still photos, their gauzy embroidered tops seem to ripple in the breeze while their ribbon-banded fedoras shield their ethereal skin. Maybe it’s some rare kind of heavy metal poisoning from the sterling silver cuff bracelets. Could it be the silk Beautiful Dreamer Eye Masks ($46.00) they’ve been wearing for weeks?
It doesn’t matter how we got here; what matters is that we sound the alarm. The people in the Sundance catalog don’t know yet about the coronavirus.
Callista does not know. She is on her way to the antique store to check out this funky armoire her nutritionist told her about. She is touching ALL the doorknobs.
Bryony does not know. She is wearing a giant ring on her index finger! Do you think she can properly wash her hands around that thing?
Dirk does know all about cultural appropriation in this Navajo-inspired sweater ($125.00), but he is about to get well within six feet of the lady across the room who is freshening his scotch.
Amandine, obviously, does not fucking know.
Valencia is wearing a goddamn makeshift mask around her neck for reasons of FASHION.
The Forsyth Pants have sashayed their voluminous hems through four separate COVID-19 hot spots. Wide-legged pants are a hazard the rest of the world has abandoned, but not the people of the catalog.
Okay, Brogan knows. His smokehouse is floor-to-ceiling toilet paper and he hasn’t been seen fly fishing for weeks.
It’s safe to say that Robert Redford, elder heartthrob and Sundance Catalog founder, galloped down the tunnel to his well-stocked underground bunker a month ago. There, where Hollywood set designers have recreated the entire town of Sundance, including a prerecorded version of its film festival, he sits on his front porch in a rocking chair, resting one of his weathered brown Michelangelo boots ($195.00) on the rail. Does he feel bad? Sure. Is he going to do anything about it? Hell no. The people in the catalog are on their own.
Kelly O’Connor McNees is a Chicagoland author and witch and you can learn much more about her (and buy her books!) here.
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I hope you enjoyed this issue Evil Witches, a newsletter for people who happen to be mothers, who sometimes have a nervous breakdown over nothing these days but also sometimes laugh hysterically over nothing. Please pass it along if you know someone who’d like this sort of thing once or twice a week. If you’re interested in writing a guest post like this one, have a suggested topic or have any general questions or you can reply right to this newsletter. You can also follow us on Instagram and have witchy conversations on Twitter too. Please consider becoming a paid subscriber to get some extra content that I promise will not be about how to keep your kids happy and educated during lockdown:
If you want to talk actual relevant fashion these days, I posed this question from my non-witch account: what soft pants are you wearing right now, since no sane person is wearing jeans at home? I’m personally a fan of these from Dick’s sporting goods, but here are some other recommendations:
One witchy thing
