Damn you Bill Clinton!

I mean it. Damn you. You have ruined my day for the last time.

I used to love you Bill. I really did. You with your bedroom eyes and that sexy Arkansas whisper ~ let’s just say you could have had more than my vote. Don’t get me wrong here, I love Hillary too … in a girl’s-school-crush sort of way; curious, just not that curious. But those days are gone, Bill. Not only are you on my shit list, I am ready to freely admit that I fully regret impulsively dropping $25 bucks on that snoozer of yours, Giving, at an airport bookshop a few years ago.

In spite of rescuing the journalists imprisoned in North Korea and creating a bazillion dollar foundation, regardless of your influential world status and smooth talking machismo, it’s the side effect of your tryst with Monica (and I am not referring to STD's) that haunts me to this day. No disrespect to Monica, of course. She seems like a perfectly nice girl.

My problem with you is bigger than your little cover-up lie about “having sex with that woman”. My problem with you is bigger than a stained dress. It’s bigger than pervasive cheating or money laundering or hiring a hit man and/or whatever else the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy folks have in their dossier. It’s personal, Bill … and as recently as this past Saturday, I have had to suffer the humiliation of your philandering.

You have taken away my personal liberty. You have infringed on my freedom as an American. I don’t think there’s a specific amendment in the Bill of Rights that fully encompasses what you’ve done, but I bet that someplace in the annals of Vogue there is. That’s right, Bill Clinton, you have crossed into territory where no straight man has the right to tread. You have violated my right to fashion. You destroyed a classic, the essence of chic.

Yes – I am talking about the beret.

You ruined the right of every woman, everywhere, to accessorize at will. I have a theory that Karl Lagerfeld and Ralph Lauren actually hired and handsomely rewarded Ken Star for his work on this issue of maintaining the dignity of this timeless chapeau. Unfortunately that did not work out. They should have sent Elton John.

Obviously, the shame of sporting the beret lies only with women, as it does not appear that the US Army Special Forces have felt the need to alter their uniforms or the spiffy, well known moniker, The Green Berets. I bet nobody would ever walk up to John Wayne and say, “Hey Duke, Monica called and she wants her hat back.” No sir, I do not see that happening. In light of that fact, I suspect that not only are you all those other things, you are also sexist. Not sexy (well, not anymore), but sexIST.  It is worth mentioning that I  do not believe that Prince  has suffered at all.

However, I will not go down without a fight, you sexy sexist man pig. Last weekend, I found the cutest most fabulous black felted beret with the cutest embellishments ever and though I let the words of others dissuade me from wearing it on Saturday, I am taking a stand. I WILL wear my beret and I will wear it with pride. Like Rosa Parks and Jim Morrison, I will not let The Man keep me down. I am going to wear that hat this weekend. I’m going to wear the shit out of it and I can promise you that the first person who mentions Monica Lewinsky is going to have a stain problem as well, but this time, it’s going to be blood.

So, Goodbye Bill Clinton ... as we part, I have but one request ~ please, please stay away from Ben Affleck. My headwear wardrobe can’t take another hit.