For some reason, seeing Hayden in that dress reminds me of my grandmother's house, on my mother's side. She would spend much of her day sipping a low-grade cognac while chain-smoking Newports with one of those fancy cigarette holders because she thought she was some sort of French noblewoman.
She would always go around trying to force me to call her "madame," as she forced me to watch her stand in front of her old, dusty mirror up in the attic trying on old fur coats. I wasn't convinced though. She preferred "madame," I preferred "whore." Yea, we never really got along.
But Hayden's dress, it reminds me of her... with that shiny exterior, those ruffles, and the exaggerated poofiness. The only difference is, Hayden can wear a hideous dress and I'll forgive her because she lets me LOOK DOWN HER SHIRT sometimes. Grandma, on the other hand, only made me do that when I was being a "naughty little boy." She scarred me for life... that nasty old bag.
Anyway, here's Hayden looking like she stole her dress from a Dickens novel. I still think she's cute, but the whole dress creates this strange golden hue that makes her look like some sort of lifeless statue.
I'd still take her down though. It never stopped me before, you know... the whole being made of bronze thing. What!?! Some statues are hot!
