MOLI VIEW™

This past weekend the whole MOLI wordsmith crew gathered in Miami and West Palm Beach. Some of us got to throw down our style mojo in the Style Wars' Miami battle. And all weekend I got to see just how stylish people are who supposedly write in their pajamas. Pajamas are of course a euphemism for anything you can wear when you work in your own house, including nothing. But writing in the nude can be intensely distracting, can't it. Let's not go there. Hmm, I've got Miami on the brain.

First, Style Wars. It was held at a tres tres club called The White Room, a subtropicalesque indoor-outdoor place in Overtown complete with coked-up valet (he blinked a thousand times a minute) and glamalicious patrons. One couple was an ode to what white does to a tan: She wore some kind of feathery mongolian-style boots, white fishnets, and a flash of a skirt, and had Hefner-playful blond braids; he was a mas macho counterpart.

Designers M.J. and Roman, clad in their declaratory House of Diehl T-shirts (ex: I Would Kneel for the House of Diehl), MC'd with a vengeance. M.J. has fashionable height and a bit of a dominatrix's authority: She towered over the crowd in her baseball cap cocked just so, pirate-y knee boots, black sequin miniskirt, and ghetto-girl hoops, but really just wanted the show to flow. Roman looks like he's wearing a topcoat even in street clothes: He's got a classic, old-world carnival-barker look in a very hipster, laid-back way. They're both good natured. They know what they're doing. They're making all of us realize that fashion is an impulse, not a credit card.

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