The world of fashion, to me, is a desolate alien wasteland. I have no knowledge base regarding it, it scares me and much like Justin Bieber, it angers me greatly. As a self confessed Fashion Ignorasito, I have made my crimes against fashion. I commit offences brazenly and without regard for the system.
I’m not American/Canadian and as a result, I don’t understand what Labor Day is, but do not tell me not to wear white after it. I would wear the hell out of that white outfit. White trousers, jacket, shirt, tie and even a white fedora because that’s how I roll.
I take the fashion gauntlet and throw it over the fence into the garden with the massive feral dog that tried to eat you as a child and tell you to go pick it up.
My greatest and most publicized crime against fashion was the 70’s wallpaper print shirt that I referenced in the latest High Tea Cast podcast. I feel the need to put this event into some sort of context to vindicate myself from your accusing gaze.
This was an item being bought specifically for a 70’s themed birthday party. Also, I was at university and invoke my right to experiment (with clothes of a dubious nature). But despite being armed with my excuses, I still felt dirty during the course of the purchase transaction and must have looked visibly guilty as I passed over this lonely item to the cashier of TK Maxx. It is rich to be chastised in this way by TK Maxx staff considering the range of tripe they sell in there, but in this case it was definitely deserved.
The subsequent party was all good fun and I felt like I found a place to belong among the 70’s chic surrounding me. But in the morning, the shame was still there, as I knew what still existed in the darkest recesses of my wardrobe. And it resides there even today, untouched for years. Forgotten. Lost to the world. Much like ring of power forged in the hellish blaze of Mount Doom. And should I allow it to adorn my body once again, Sauron’s eye will fall upon me with his fiery gaze and proceed to rip the piss out of me for being the idiot who bought it.
I do not commit many crimes against fashion. I tend to play it safe with simple t-shirts and jeans, even if regular length jeans are too long for my Hobbit legs and short length jeans are like my favorite theoretical particle the Higgs Boson. They are apparently out there but I still can’t seem to find the elusive bastards. I should probably stop shopping at the CERN gift shop.
But overly long jeans are not my only gripe against the world of fashion. I can get by with my fraying jeans as I stomp the offending extra length out of existence. What I cannot stand, and got into an angry exchange with someone about just recently, is being told that these inharmonious morons who wear their trousers down by their knees, are fashionable. Do not make me puke my guts out please! Fashionable?
The waistline of any form of trouser is named in such a way that describes the optimum location for itself. The waistline sits comfortably at the waist. It’s perfectly simple and the fact that this basic logic is defied in the name of fashion is a suckerpunch to anyone with at least half a functioning brain.
Following the same logic, underwear is named underwear because it is meant to be worn UNDER your normal clothes you WEAR. Because of these “fashionable trip hazards, your underwear has just become wear. I do not want to see your arse and I could not give a flying toss at what brand of “wear” you wear.
Only recently, Billy Joe Armstrong of Greenday fame was refused admittance onto a flight as he refused to pull up his trousers for the decency of other customers. Naturally the flight attendant did not know whom he was to treat him in this way. And as soon as Suck Up Airlines found out about this, they promptly issued an apology to him for such an inconvenience. They actually apologized to him for enforcing a standard that they would apply to all other customers. I might as well name and shame; it was Southwest Airlines. Double standards at its most blatant and the locomotive leviathan that is The Celebrity getting its way yet again.
As a disclaimer, I don’t mind Green Day. I fact, I quite like some of their music. But Billy, if you don’t like my opinion, come at me bro! I’m not changing it. The sniveling sucking up to the glory of these golden idols sickens me some times. Maybe it’s partly because I am jealous, but mostly it’s because 99.9% of the world’s population would not get such preferential treatment. But it is the way the world works.
The moral of this story is, if you are famous, you can dress like a twat and get away with just about anything you like. It probably would have taken Billy Joe cock slapping a Smurf whilst snorting cocaine from the Qur’an for the airline to chastise his behavior. Just look at Lady Jar Jar Binks covering her poker face in slabs of meat and being called a genius for it. These famous people are trendsetters in the world of fashion and this is why I despair for the future of humanity and fear for the safety of Smurfs.
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