Nothing Compares 2 Fug

When I was a wee lass in high school, I -- like many of my classmates, and the rest of the country -- loved Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U." There was much listening to that cassingle while staring out the window instead of doing my geometry homework. (Imagining, of course, that I was looking out on a romantic and rainy heath, across which, at any moment, some desperately handsome Heathcliff-type man would come stumbling, desperate for my adolescent love. The year we did geometry was also the year we read Wuthering Heights.) And if you had asked me what I thought Sinead O'Connor looked like most of the time, I would have guessed that she looked very beautiful, as she was on the cassingle cover, and also very sparsely chic, due to what was obviously a serious case of heartbreak. (I imagined, at that age, that when one was heartbroken, one generally dressed like a wan and gorgeous goth as outfitted by Prada.) And if you'd asked me what I thought she'd look like fifteen years later, this is not exactly what I would have pictured:

Those two girls in the back are with me: "Is she in her nightgown?" "I know it's cold, but is she wearing Uggs?"  "She looks like she just threw her overcoat on in order to run out and get the newspaper." "Oh, SINEAD."

Oh, Sinead, indeed.