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[whitespace] Miss Pinkie Shears

Miss Pinkie Shears

Dear Pinkie Shears,
I was wondering what you think about smoking. I don't smoke yet but it seems cool. I could use some advice 'cause both my parents are dead.
Joseph, age 14

Dear Joseph,
I think that any vice that once spawned a product called Topol (the ingenuous conjunction of the words Tooth and Polish) to rid yourself of nicotine-stained teeth is one to be sternly and carefully considered. Do not be fooled by the present trend in brand-name toothpaste and their new "whitening" formulas. It's all just Topol. And believe me, dear, when I say that in my experience neither effervescent personality nor well-formed physique can distract a potential paramour from a ghoulish yellow smile. Furthermore, one must remember that "cool" is always a relative term. Envision one of your male friends appearing at school tomorrow wearing a long powdered wig, court shoes ornamented by large silk bows and pretty pink pantaloons, and listening to Couperin harpsichord suites on his Discman. While he might have ruled France in 1716, he would undoubtedly be soundly thrashed in 1998. Or perhaps imagine also thrashing him while he wears a striped boat-necked shirt, black beret, black loafers and a red scarf tied about his neck, snapping his fingers and calling out to you in a husky whisper, "Why, daddy-o, why?" A cigarette in your hand and a long lazy exhale of dreamy smoke can impart the air of the suave and rebellious, but it could also one day brand you as an outdated loser hopelessly addicted to tooth polish.

Here are some letters that I have received of late that even I am at a loss to answer. Perhaps there is no need ...

Dear Pinkie,
My friend claims to be an Evil Genius. Is there any way to really tell?

Dear Miss Shears,
I see a lot of young people on the teevee today wearing khaki. They're starting to look like a bunch of goddamn commies. Do you know of an organization that a stylish older gentleman could join to help battle this scourge?

Dear Miss Shears,
I think I met you at Dido's party. I was really smashed, and I think I blew a burp in your face. Just wanted to say sorry. Oops, I think I stole your car, too.

In need of style advice? Send all queries to Miss Pinkie Shears, San Francisco Metropolitan, 1776A 18th St., SF, 94107. Miss Shears cannot be reached by phone.

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From the June 15-28, 1998 issue of the Metropolitan.

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