Not that I’m deluded enough
to think that my wardrobe is above reproach.
Please. My idea of fashion is
something that covers what needs covering, isn’t inside-out and doesn’t have
(too many) visible stains. The last time
I had an outfit that was stylish, coordinated, and had crazy things like
accessories, Miley Cyrus was still a twinkle in Billy Ray’s eye. Ahem. They
say that those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Words to live by, for sure. Let’s just keep the following “rocks” between
you and me, shall we??
Legwarmers: However you want to look at it, musically,
stylistically, “Flashdance” did no one any favours. Wrapping your calves with woolen sleeves is
not cute. The fact that I am seeing
impressionable young women wearing these again is disheartening, to say the
least. Frankly, for me it’s just proof
positive that stupid never dies.
Ponchos: Unless others commonly refer to you as The High
Plains Drifter and you favour smoking cigarillos, this is a ridiculous (yet
useless) fashion item. Too drafty to
keep you warm, just long enough to get tangled up in your arms, and vulnerable to
strong gusts of wind that will leave you playing peek-a-boo with passers-by. I’ll ‘fess up. I had one of these crocheted masterpieces in
the 70’s. My defense? It was the 70’s. What else can you
expect from the decade that brought the world platform shoes, ABBA and lapels
the size of small aircraft?
Sandals
with socks:
Really? Is this something we need
to go over, folks? Let me ask you
this: Would you wear long underwear with
your bathing suit? Sandals are for
cooling, socks are for warming. Wearing
them together is unattractive and counter-productive. Kind of like Stephen Harper.
Beards: I’m tempted to lump all beards together, but
I’ll refrain, simply because there are some men (my gorgeous husband included)
that absolutely rock a goatee. No, what
I’m referring to is the long, grizzled variety, what I call the ZZ Top. These are wrong on so many levels, it’s hard
to know where to begin. Let’s just say
that food and long straggly hair should never be in any sort of proximity. Ew.
Ponytails
on men: What’s the point,
if you never wear your hair any other way? It’s like having a Maserati and
never taking off the parking brake. Trust
me guys: unless you are a pirate swashbuckling
your way across the high seas or fighting in the War of 1812, get yourself a
haircut and move on.
Yoga
pants: It’s obvious the
pendulum has swung a long way back from the time when women were drowning in
bloomers, petticoats, underskirts and overskirts. I get it.
You want freedom and comfort.
Does that really necessitate you packing your coochie into millimetres-thin
swaths of Lycra for display to the general public? Call me old-fashioned but there is this crazy
thing called “moderation”. It’s not all
or nothing, gals. (See “Cyrus,
Miley”.) And while we’re on the subject
of stretchy pants, can I just say once and for all to all my fellow XL (as in
Extra Luscious) ladies out there: just because you can squeeze into it does
not mean it fits. If the closest
you’ve ever gotten to yoga is flicking past it on morning television, please
don’t. You are so much better than that.
Suits
with runners:
Gentlemen: unless you’re fond of
looking like you’re heading to Picture Day at the local elementary school,
please don’t. Women started this
God-awful trend in the 80’s, but it was because they were sick of crippling
themselves with four-inch heels and pointy toes. The average man’s dress shoe does not (as far
as I can tell) have four-inch heels. If
your feet are so sensitive you can’t hack standard men’s dress shoes, maybe you
should consider bedroom slippers. And a
crew of Nubian litter-bearers. All hail
the king.
Pointy-toed
men’s shoes: As
with all trends, things get taken past the point of cool to a neighbourhood I
like to call “Ridiculous”. That’s right
next door to “Dumbass”, I believe. If
you’re one of those poor souls who got sucked into wearing cockroach killers
that make you look like you should be in a Shriner’s parade, I’m sorry. For you.
And if you’re wearing those thin-soled little lace-ups that we used to call
Capezio’s, I have one question for you:
Are you currently in a Broadway revival of “Cats”?
Golf
shirts and khakis: Just
like women in over-size shirts and black stretchy pants, this outfit screams
“I’ve given up”. That, or “I never, ever want to have sex again.” It is unoriginal, it is dumpy and unless you
are Tiger Woods (or just want to look like him), inappropriate for anywhere
other than a golf course. You can do it,
gents. Ditch the Dockers and purge the
polos. For me. For you. For the love of all that is stylish.
Stay fabulous,
folks. I’m out. J
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