Petra knew this was my if-I-met-John-Cusack-it'd-be-in-this-dress dress.
She must have also known I'd been questioning lately exactly how it was she got my dream life of jetting around the world to do little else but smile through a neutral gloss, wear beautiful evening gowns night after night and sorta kinda talk about like, charities and stuff.
There's no other explanation than throw-it-in-my-face spite why Ms. Nemcova would take such a stunning regal purple textured-satin lantern-neck column gown and ruin it with ten pounds of down-in-front Farrah feathering, a not-skim-but-drag-on-the-floor hemline and what from most angles look like a pair of Old Navy flip-flops.
Sorry Petra, I know I'm being tough on you, but like a stripper, your only job requirement is to look wish-I-were-you hot, and when you can't even do that properly...well, let's just say it's disappointing.
Especially for the children.