Susan Brady Konig has nothing to wear

IT’S A DIFFICULT time of year for me. The fashion magazines have their big fall issues on the stands, bursting with style news. I buy them all and look at the pictures. It doesn’t help. I’m garmentally challenged.

It’s a Nineties thing. My mother, who came of age in the Fifties, is the epitome of style. I’m a slob. God knows she tried to impart her natural sense of style to me, but when I was young and impressionable, Calvin and Ralph told me I could wear jeans anywhere.