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Sunday, October 17, 2004

So very shallow, yes.

I have more things to say about professionalism, but they can wait. Because I need to be incredibly shallow for a moment, and talk about fashion, a subject on which I am uniquely unqualified to speak, as I own fewer clothes than almost any other woman I know. But bear with me.

At any given moment, fashion crimes are being perpetrated on a wide scale. I'm not talking about individual ignorance or poor taste, I'm talking about widespread trends that should never have come to pass. I'm sure you can think of a few off the top of your head; I'm not going to provide examples. But like earthquakes, volcanoes, and certain weather patterns, these trends, usually isolated, come to a head every few decades in a simultaneous explosion of painfully poor aesthetic choices on all fronts of the apparel industry. Now is one of those times. We are having, like, a twenty-year fashion crisis, here.

Waistlines have officially dropped below asscrackage. Selvedges and fraying are in. Pleats - dear God, pleats - are back. The other day I was in a chic little boutique downtown and I saw a chartreuse and brown vertically striped asymmetrical knit poncho. Can we count the things that are wrong with that? Chartreuse? Striped? Asymmetrical? Poncho?!? Right. And what is with these "skirts" and "dresses" that look like someone just tacked together the rag bag without reference to human anatomy? The disastrousness is unlimited and pervasive. I saw two little girls wearing legwarmers and jelly bracelets the other day - granted, it was in Southern California, but all they needed was one net glove and a fake mole for it to be 1982. Alternatively, if you preferred the previous decade, huge bug-eye sunglasses are back in vogue. They made your momma look like an overgrown mosquito in 1974, and now they can overpower your face too! Oh, and high heels? Do not go with jeans. Not if they're over 2 inches, and especially not if they're pointy. Just saying.

It's a style apocalypse. We will be able to look back at photographs taken this year and date them based solely on the clothing people are wearing. The children of today's fashionistas are going to fall over laughing at this year's pages in the photo album. And I can't find a nice, simple dress worth wearing to save my life. Somebody had better fix this before I wear out all my nice, comfortable classics and am forced to wear low-slung Pucci-print hotpants. Because it won't be pretty, I assure you.

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