Miss Veronika Everheart, Tap Sensation

This fancy lady is a walking contradiction. Her shapely hooves sport a pair of kicky heels the likes of which we haven't seen since O'Reilly's Speakeasy over on East 37th closed. And those gaucho pants (not a skirt, as we initially believed) show she's ready to do the lindy hop or the mashed potato or a quickstep, depending on what bastardized decade we place her in. But what's this? Camouflage on top? No, you dancing queen! Why would you want to hide your light under a bushel?

But once our eyes reach the top of her head, with her poorly matched red hat and faded fuschia (is that even possible) scarf, we realized that this jazz cat isn't in camouflage to hide. It's a metaphor! Her snappy monochrome camo is simply an homage to the Prohibition years, when all those guys and dolls had to drink and dance and participate in other shenanigans and/or hootenannies in hiding. Now she's out on the streets and ready to party again!

So watch out for this one, if you see her coming down the road. There's no telling what kind of crazy allegedly mob-related fun you might have with her!

If this doesn't scare you, no evil thing will...

'Tis the season... to wear hideous black and white! Our lovely bemulleted clotheshorse here worked for everyone's favorite anti-PETA activist Cruella DeVille as her housekeeper. When the old bitch died, all she left poor Mrs. O'Mullet was her least favorite sofa. (You know, the one from the second-smallest guest suite in the east wing.) But this crafty domestic worker knew how to get her revenge. She used the couch's upholstery to make herself this snazzy, snazzy coat, and to top it off, used Cruella's own hair to line the collar. Oh, the irony. Roger and Anita would approve.