I
wouldn’t know fashion if he kicked me in the face with his Louis Vuitton kitten
heels.
And,
frankly, I am completely fine with this because I believe in Newton’s 3rd law of relative
fashion: for every great outfit there must be an equal and opposite faux
pas. In our fashion class system, there could not be the fashionistas
without the fashion ruhtards.
Needless
to say, I am not at the top of the fashion food chain but I’m not at the very
bottom either. I put myself somewhere in the lower-middle fashion
class. The vast majority of my clothes come from the clearance rack at
Target with a few Ross and Old Navy finds thrown in the mix for good
measure. I buy my panties in packages far more often than individually
and the most expensive garment I own is a bra from Victoria’s Secret. "Dry Clean Only' is a dirty word. But, on most days,
I match. And I think that should get a lot more credit than it
does. My friend Aar (that’s not her actual name, she used to work for me
and when I ordered her name tag, I added an extra A creating the sweet pirate
sound to her name, it was an accident but I like it) has been known to wear a
black lacy skirt, a grey camisole and a navy sweater with dark teal tights and
black boots. We call her Rainbow Bright for obvious reasons. But
it’s okay because somewhere in the world is Aar’s fashion counterpart and that
person creates such a clothing masterpiece that it cancels out Aar’s fashion assault, keeping the fashion equilibrium in
check.
My
point in all of this is that while I may not be at the height of fashion I CAN
spot a fashion fuck-up. And I am here to tell you, dear eFriends, someone
has lied to you. Somehow, a fashion ruhtard has managed to go unchecked
for far too long and they have tricked you into thinking plaid is cool.
It’s not. It is all a sham, a fashion mirage.
Plaid
wasn’t cool a year ago when a rather hairy, pot bellied man sat in my section
at the BBQ joint. How do I know he was rather hairy and pot bellied if he
was wearing plaid? Well, let me tell you about the honktastic outfit this
catch of a man beast was wearing. He was wearing jean overalls without a
shirt but since we are a classy BBQ joint, he had to put on a shirt or else the
‘NO shirt, NO service’ policy would come into effect. But this gent put
the ASSY in classy and beat our policy by simply putting the plaid shirt on
OVER his overalls (apparently, he didn’t get that overalls go over all and not
under all) and not bothering with the buttons lest that would hinder the hair
around his nipples from blowing in the cool breeze created by my running away
from his table to throw up in mouth.
Plaid wasn’t cool when Billy Ray Cyrus did it in
1992.
And plaid is not cool now even though you can’t go 5
feet without seeing someone in it, someone selling it or someone longing for
it.
(I will admit that the AF picture is pleasing to look at even in the plaid shirt)
