This is Lillian La Mantia.
Lillian La Mantia dresses like this on purpose. She doesn’t get paid for it, it is not the result of a bet, she doesn’t think she is one of the Bronte sisters, she is not Kelly McGillis in Witness, though she does want Jesus for a sunbeam. For she is a believer, people. A believer.
Lillian La Mantia, who has a name which screams needy, is on a one-woman mission to make the women of Great Britain – which apparently includes Scotland – cover up their chuffs, jugs, lovely long Lindas, the lot.
‘Some of the girls going to school look like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman,’ laments Lillian, whilst squeezing her hair so tight she gives herself a little James I beard.
Lillian, who is not only married but married to a real life person, likes to wear dresses – and we use that term loosely – that stretch all the way from here to here.
‘For me, dressing modestly is about respect – for myself, my husband, the other people around me.’
Lillian La Mantia is all heart.
‘I don’t want men to look at me like a piece of meat.’
They don’t. They look at you like a piece of gristle.
Lillian, who spent £40 pounds on clothes last year, mostly on wool tights (we didn’t even have to make that bit up), says, ‘I always aim to be fashionable.’
All of Manhattan is abuzz about the state of Lillian La Mantia.
‘A fucking mess,’ says Vogue.
‘Amish chic is back!’ says Pick Me Up.
‘How to get a six-pack in three days,’ says Men’s Health.
And we’ll leave you with these words from Lillian ringing in your ears like tinnitus.
‘I have to order things from Mormon websites.’
Don't look at me, I'm a moose!,