Mirror, Mirror, Morph Me, Please

         If having a phone that’s smarter than I am were not bad enough, now the dressing room mirror at the department store is smart.  It promises to interact with me.

         The risk is bad enough in trying on clothes in a fitting/dressing room. Potential exists for perverts to ogle through “security cameras.” We older chicks don’t have too much to worry about in that regard. Even jeepers-creepers-peepers would gag upon viewing a body with sags, bags, wrinkles, and cellulite.

         

     The Wicked Queen, Snow White’s step-mother, had a talking mirror. Everyone knows what happened to that mirror when Her Royal Wickedness heard that she no longer was the fairest in the land. Risk is always involved with a talking mirror. “Yes, Dearie, those slacks do make your butt look big.”

    Stacy and Clinton from What Not to Wear will not burst forth from the wings, gift card in hand. Stacy will not comment, “What were you thinking?”  No magic eraser will be associated with this 360-degree mirror. No fashion-forward wardrobe will accompany these new smart mirrors. A coupon for a hair and make-up make-over could be printed from the mirror, however; I’d take that. 

            I once wondered what I must have looked like walking away from some cad as I wheeled around with a toss of my hair, and said, “Not in your wildest dreams.” I sashayed away in my mind with style and class thinking, “Eat your heart out.”  In reality, today, the mirror would give me opportunity to see my rear-view as it wiggles and jiggles and looks like a Jell-o mold in death throws.

          The magic mirror promises style comparisons. I now can choose several tops or blouses and see how they look, without ever trying them on. I can compare the looks through the mirror’s magic. I must know, though, after all these years that certain shades of green are not “in my palate.” Perhaps one of the choices could flash a red X several times to remove all doubt and chant, “Abort! Abort! Call the paramedics! Chartreuse: Death-bed sick. Try again!”

           What would be smart about a mirror surveying my overall look as I try on clothes is the advice my mother gave me long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away:  “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

On the other hand, if the mirror were truly smart, it would make me look 10 pounds thinner with hair and make-up like Kate Middleton. I’d buy the outfit and the mirror on the spot.