Emma Frost is stylish. Allegedly. I mean, that’s what I’ve been told, over and over again, by the dudes who write and draw her. She’s a scion of the Boston brahmins! She attends the swankest parties, given by the crustiest of the upper crust! She loves to feel sexy — in ways that just happen to coincide with the most thuddingly obvious fanboy desires! So classy! So urbane! Truly, what modern woman doesn’t consider what appears to be a $29.99 plastic corset from a strip mall sex shop the height of empowered glamour?
Emma Frost has a wardrobe problem.