Cintra Wilson visited Lilly Pulitzer on Madison for this week’s “Critical Shopper” column. The experience was intense to say the least:
The second floor was also home to some absolutely terrifying sport jackets for men. I imagined it was what Anita Bryant’s linen closet would have looked like after Hurricane Andrew: violent mangos, pinks and aquamarines starched into jackets of such female bedspread intensity they might cause even Ricardo Montalbán to run toward the volcano.
I asked for help from Jessica Stoller, a wry minx with turquoise eyes to match her cardigan.
“What kind of men buy these jackets?” I asked. “Mobsters? Gay guys? Gay mobsters? Game-show hosts?” She assured me the jackets were extremely popular and left my mind to wander about the ramifications of this for society at large.
No amount of time at an Easter brunch on a boat in Martha’s Vineyard can prepare an outsider for that stuff.