Every day Westword receptionist Steve Burge gives you the fashionable view from the front desk.

A wise man once sang, “Save a horse! Ride a cowboy!” Profound lyrics most certainly inspired by a shirt such as this. Editorial stud muffin, Jonathan, puts the “CO” in “Cowtown” and shows off some pride for his home state in this pearl snapped shirt by Rockmount Ranch Wear. It takes a special kinda playa to pull off such a… daring… look, wouldn’t you say? Namely, the associate editor of Westword OR! our very own Mayor John Hickenlooper. (See the piece in Off Limits.) “Off Limits?” More like “Off the Hook!” Eat your heart out, John Wayne!

- Steve Burge

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If you chose to spend last weekend anywhere other than the Pink Elephant Room, you
made a bad choice. Lucky for you, though, there will be ample chances to redeem yourself. Every Friday and Saturday, PS 1515, at the corner of Madison and Colfax, transforms itself into the modern-day speakeasy/burlesque club called The Pink Elephant Room. The crowd on opening night was almost as eclectic as the clothes the girls shed throughout the evening.

Every day Westword receptionist Steve Burge gives you the fashionable view from the front desk.

Retail Sales Rep. and resident bombshell, Deanna, takes a minute to put her feet up. Can you blame her, though? Those stiletto boots must be hurting her pretty badly… cuz they’re killing me! If things don’t work out here, looks like Deanna will have no trouble making a living as a dominatrix, huh?

Boots: BCBG
Sunglasses: Gucci
Fish Net Stockings: True Love
Leather Skirt: Express
Turtleneck: Gap

- Steve Burge

I’ll admit it. I’m one of those finicky-to-a-fault shoppers who eschews the mall like a sink full of dirty dishes. I hate dressing like everyone else does. No knee-length black jackets for me. No wide belts. And, no matter how much you entice me with your practical-yet-cute appeal, sorry, ballet-flats, no to you as well. I’m a stickler for originality. Problem is, I’m also outrageously cheap. So last month, when I realized that every piece of clothing I owned either had a hole in it or was dangerously close to developing one, I knew it was time for my once-a-year-on-even-years-only shopping day. Either that or wield a needle and thread. And I take to sewing even less than washing dishes.

Every day Westword receptionist Steve Burge gives you the fashionable view from the front desk.

Mandy shows off her confidence and a whole lot more in this little shortie of skirt. Who needs a stuffy business suit when the Lord above has blessed you with stems like these? I think it's time for offices the world over to rethink their dullsville dress codes. And Westword is ready to lead that movement! So break out the shears, ladies. (But make sure you avoid the paparazzi when climbing out of you car.)

-Steve Burge

Every day Westword receptionist Steve Burge gives you the fashionable view from the front desk.

Our spicy little spitfire rocks the dots, proving that a classic fashion trend never goes out of style. Worn here with a black business suit, RayAnn’s plunging neckline and flirty polka dotted blouse add a little sex appeal to the traditional office attire. Add some designer eyeglasses and a pair of sassy black heels and we have ourselves the perfect blend of savvy and sexy. Sorry boys… this office vixen isn’t looking to hire an assistant anytime soon, but if a spot opens up on her team, we’ll be sure to let you know.

Stats:
Name – RayAnn
Age – Legal
Job Title – Operations Coordinator
Glasses by – Guess
Ensemble by – Charlotte Rousse
Shoes by – Guess

- Steve Burge

Green looks like it will continue to be fashion's new black in 2008. And as environmental concerns escalate, it sure feels good to be able to indulge in a cute new dress or a pair of shoes without any fear of hurting Mother Earth.

There are a few easy ways to shop and dress “green.” You can buy new clothing from an eco-fashion company that uses organic fibers or other earth-friendly materials. You can also buy gently used clothes from thrift stores, consignment shops or even off of Craigslist. By reusing clothing, you can keep it out of the landfills and find some unique looks at the same time.

Depending on whom you ask, thrift store shopping is either a thrilling exploration to find treasures untold, or it’s a huge, time-sucking pain in the ass to locate one good vintage t-shirt. Thriftonista, a new Denver company, subscribes to both world views. TaRosa Jacobs and Rebekah Adams, two new mothers who met in their home birthing class, started Thriftonista because they love to shop, but realized that not everybody else has the patience for it.

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Yesterday, the National Western Stock Show took to the streets of downtown Denver with its annual parade. There were loads of longhorns, heaps of horses, copious cowboys, rafts of ranchers, and a jillion journalists to document their every move. But more noteworthy than the parade were the parade-goers themselves, the workaday Coloradoans who watched the pageant roll on by. You see, Mayor Hickenlooper deemed yesterday “Dress Western Day.”

So even though the weather was cold enough that the horse shit was steaming before it hit the ground, parade goers arrived in style. Because, unlike Madonna and Jessica Simpson would have you believe, they know that Western wear isn’t meant for warm-weather lounging. It’s meant for frigid mornings herding cattle onto the plains, or, in this case, 17th Street. In other words, out with the daisy dukes and in with the Carhartts. Out with the sexy rhinestoned cowboy hats (except on the rodeo queens, bless your hearts), and in with the wide-brimmed Stetsons. And while we’re at it, out with the stiletto cowboy boots, because, well, they’re ugly.

That said, cowboy attire doesn’t have to eschew fashion for function, and on that count, Denver’s parade goers all but failed. So in hopes of an even better “Dress Western Day” next year, here is a slide show list of Western wear Dos and Don’ts based on the parade.
-- Naomi Zeveloff

Not too long ago, a dear friend of mine (Let’s call her something fabulous like… “Bianca”) called me up in hysterics. It seemed that her boyfriend of over a year (Let’s call him “Big Fat Jack Ass) had fallen out of love with her and decided it best to break the news to her voicemail.

Margaritas were definitely in order.

I immediately went to Mezcal, ordered a drink and mentally rehearsed all the things I wanted to say about “Big Fat Jack Ass.” Fifteen minutes later, a woman who slightly resembled “Bianca” flopped down in the seat across from me. I was aghast.

“Oh. My. Gawd.”