Aretha's hat makes anyone look better--though Joop is already perfect.
On an entirely different note, linked only by an internal rhyme and my propensity this January to give my blog posts long titles, Manfred has alerted me to the existence of The Diary of a Nobody, which I had never heard of. Written in 1888 by George and Weedon Grossmith and originally serialized in Punch, it purports to be the diary of a Mr. Pooter, who records important events of his day, such as the news that his watercress seeds have not sprouted yet. The cumulative effect is very funny, though I've only read a few entries. (The link is to the diary presented in blog form, with illustrations--original, I think).
Here is the introduction:
Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see—-because I do not happen to be a ‘Somebody’—-why my diary should not be interesting. My only regret is that I did not commence it when I was a youth.