Duel or die?

I feel as if John Galliano has thrown down the gauntlet, slapped me in the face with his glove and challenged me to a duel (although I'm certain I am far too insignificant to even merit his attention). Down his runway he strutted his models, forcing them into giant polka dot bows, powdered hair, bejewelled lips, blue nail polish and even making them wear stuffed animals as accessories. All these things I know I detest and would never wear (blue nail polish, do I want to appear as if I am dying of some rare disease; crystals on my lips? a choking hazard to be certain; giant polka dot bows are best reserved for Minnie Mouse and prepubescent females). However, despite all my decided opinions on these matters, I find myself intrigued, drawn against my will to stare unceasingly at detail images, while my minds races and heart flutters. A challenge to rethink everything I know as unflattering--do I make arrangements for my funeral in case of an accident, or run tail between my legs to the nearest safe refuge from all that is fashion?