The Wicked Witch O’ The West – she’s an intimidator, a terminator, even a scarecrow baiter.

But a fashionista?  Never!

What goes through her head in the morning?

Does she consider her mole-peppered avocado reflection in the bathroom mirror and think:  “I’ve got it!  An ankle-length black sack topped off with an inky spire for a hat.”

That Bubonic Plague look is so not happening anymore.

She should invest in a quality moisturizer and accent that exotic skin tone. 

Maybe use some kohl liner to bring out those beady little eyes.

Cash in on that edgy ethnic look.

She definitely needs a makeover.

But whom can she consult?

She’s surrounded by devotees of fashion faux pas.

Her minions, the flying monkeys, dress like simian bellhops in drag.

The munchkins, while an endearing little race, are enamored of horizontal stripes, tacky flowers on hats, and turned-up-at-the-toe footgear.

And Glinda, the good one with the high falsetto voice and cascading curls?  She looks like Marie Antoinette on her way to the prom.  Off with her head!

The poor Wicked Witch O’The West doesn’t stand a chance.

If I only knew the zip code to Oz, I’d send her some pink thong panties to head her in the right direction.

Damn that Dorothy!

If only she’d given the witch those ruby red slippers.

Copyright 2009