Kara Kennedy

When the film version of To Kill a Mockingbird came out in 1962, America was captivated. In part it was because of the moral force of Harper Lee’s story about a lawyer who does what today’s Twitter progressives will not: think twice about whether a mere accusation is enough to convict a supposedly shitty man. But it was also because, to put it plainly, the hero Atticus Finch was played by Gregory Peck in a loosely fitting but perfectly tailored gray three-piece suit. And, well, Peck looked hot.   George Santos is not hot, but he is an icon. In the last year or so he has hit the headlines for his perfectly curated preppy fashion that make him look like an oversized prep school kid. The Washington Post described his look as "bland but utterly unforgettable.

Open up any social media and type in the word “prep.” I just did it: to my horror, I was met by a soft-voiced, big-lipped TikTokker dressing herself in bright, monogrammed clothes and topping the look off with a Tommy Hilfiger bucket hat and matching socks. I then called my friend Peter York, co-author of The Official Sloane Ranger Handbook, otherwise known as Britain’s answer to The Official Preppy Handbook and the Ten Commandments for an entire generation of preppy dressers in the United Kingdom.  “Prep is minimal,” he reassured me. “That’s the whole point, preppy clothes are a staple in everybody’s wardrobe.” But, as York told me, the younger generations’ take on this timeless trend “doesn’t sound remotely like what prep actually is.

Where is Melania? This was the question on many people's lips after the former First Lady was absent from the after-party at the Mar-a-Lago estate on Tuesday night following her husband’s quick trip to New York City. Trolls took to social media to ridicule Mrs Trump for 'not standing by her man' during his indictment; some even cracked jokes that she was moving on to pastures new with freshly single Rupert Murdoch. Wherever she was, I hope she was happy. In fact, I hope she was positively beaming while horizontal at a spa getting a deep-tissue massage with martinis flowing and charging it all to her husband’s credit card.

So you’re going to be arrested imminently: how do you prepare? I’ve dwelled on this question often since my arrest at 16, the ugliest age you can be. You draw on thick eyeliner and have even thicker acne, which you think you can cover with even thicker layers of makeup and a back-combed barnet. The outcome was the world’s worst mugshot. My first pointer therefore: if you’re about to be arrested, brush your hair.  Luckily for Donald Trump, when he’s arrested and brought before a judge on Tuesday, he won’t be handcuffed. Chic, right? The Secret Service and court authorities have ‘mitigated’ that issue, apparently. His hair is also pretty good for a 76-six-year-old when it’s not being blown about in the wind.

When I was eighteen, my ex-boyfriend sent naked photos of me to all my friends and family after a particularly bad argument. Inconsolable and embarrassed, I looked to my mother to see if she could help, or if she never wanted to speak to me again. She said something that I will never forget. “Don’t worry love, if I had tits like yours, I'd put them on my Christmas cards.” After that day, I no longer thought of breasts as inconsequential hanging sacks of fat. Now I just adore them — and not only my own. I have become somewhat of a breast connoisseur, and I get a good look at a pair whenever I can. So you can imagine my delight when Sydney Sweeney entered the public eye. I haven’t seen a rack that good in a while.