Slacking

I'm back, dear friends. Did you miss me?

You may be thinking that I was too busy last week crying and bitching to notice what you've all been wearing. Think again.

What you missed:

Big hair. [Just so you know I wasn't making it up.]



And no, that isn't Becca Lynch. Her hair has shape to it, and the curls are defined. That's just a hot mess. I should introduce you to my friend, John Frieda. He's a magician.

Karen and Ashten both looked smashing.



Chartreuse - my life's theme color. [The orange shoes are an excellent choice.]

And my life's theme print . . .



Once again, great shoe choice. Black, white and yellow - classic but not tired [ahem . . . . B&W + red? Or pink? Give them a rest. They're weary.]



2Pair went through a blue period. And though you can't see it there was a mysterious brown substance on her seat. One can only speculate as to what it was or how long it had been there. Please ladies, clean clothes. Laundry is free on campus. Lack of quarters is no longer an excuse. [As if it ever was . . .]

Today I didn't see anything too heinous, but I wasn't paying very close attention.

I did see dreadlocks done correctly. I tried to get a photo, but homedog was moving too quickly and it blurred. They were small, even, and clean. While it's still not a hairstyle I favor, I wasn't inclined to vomit.

Karen looked presh again.



Love, love, love long cardigans.

[Please note that she and Ashten have the same shoes.] [Also note that they are completely adorable.]



And Jess proudly gave birth [wearing a shirt she got at Gap for $1! That's right, you don't have to be rich, Ikea lovers.] in the middle of the 'Ho to . . . .



A very beautiful camel leather bag. [From Urban. Of course.]

Let's hope the sun shines tomorrow. I am feeling that a sundress is in order.

"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
- Yves Saint Laurent

Rejoice!!

Good news, Wasteland fans!

The rage is subsiding.

Posting will resume on Monday. I know you're all very excited.

You have all weekend to put together something that will impress me.

"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
- Yves Saint Laurent

99 Problems

And bitches are every one.

Here's the deal. There is a lot of drama concerning this chapel blog. Deadalus, Amber Jackson, whatever their true name is, everyone at this fucking hell-hole seems to believe that it's me. [Yes, I said fucking. Deal with it. Fuck, fuck, fucking. Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fucking.]


(That is the angriest looking photo I have of myself.)

These people think it is appropriate to spread these rumors as fact all over this campus, even going so far as to post an accusation on my Facebook wall from an anonymous Facebook profile - which the blogger is berated for time and again.

"[S]everal others have expressed their opinions about who the 'real' Amber Jackson,[sic] several of us believe that 'she' is comprised of a few people, yourself included."

I will not defend myself again. I'm too tired and pissed to do so even one more time.

Here's what this means for the Wasteland; I cannot and will not post another blog on this site until one of two things occurs. Either 1. the rumors subside and people allow me to live my life the way I have for the past 4 years - peacefully minding my own damn business, or 2. My rage subsides on its own [I really do not see this happening].

I am too worn out and too infuriated to continue to keep this place going. Frankly, I have little joy left in my heart from all this bullshit, and I can't do this if I am unhappy.

If you're disappointed, thank your school chums.

I'd like to thank them as well.

Thank you, SNU, for making me feel obligated to discontinue something that gave me a small bit of joy. I now have no outlet for both my love of fashion and harmless sarcasm. Thank you for imposing yourselves into my life, taking away something that made me and several others happy, and generally being all-around assholes.

I am not a judgmental person. I seriously thought that genuine people existed in this community. People who believed in fostering relationships, not tearing others down because they have nothing better to do than to start a witch-hunt for someone who wants (or at the very least claims to want) things to change in a place we ALL know needs it desparately. Apparently I was dead wrong.

I am now returning to a belief I formerly held: the majority of Christians are pricks bent on condemning, accusing, and battering everyone around them. Not true? Prove me wrong.

(Now would be the time to say that those accusations do NOT include one of my best friends, Ashley Smith. If you want to see a true follower (and one of the only ones I know) of Christ's teachings, spend 10 minutes with this lady.)

I am not an generally an angry person. I just don't get mad, normally. I try to figure out the reason behind people's actions. I try to understand individuals and do my best to avoid judging them in any way.

But this . . . . . I have become so enraged that I can't even say hello to people properly. I walked into the commons this afternoon glaring at everyone, including my friends. Walking down the sidewalk I normally think things like, "she seems friendly," "I wonder why he looks upset," "cute top," "I really wish she wasn't wearing those pants - she'd look so pretty in something more flattering." Today my thoughts were, "You look like a tool," "You are most certainly an asshole," "What the hell are you looking at?" "I hate you." "And you." "You too." You have all turned me from an endearing cynic into a genuinely hateful person. Congratulations.

I mentioned in the last post that I have a gift for cutting remarks. I don't think I truly gave myself justice. I am a magician of words. I said that I refuse to defend myself anymore, and this is true. But do not be fooled, I am by no means submissive. If I hear any of this bullshit firsthand, if I am directly accused, if some little shit gives me the stink-eye or calls me a bitch again, I will be more than happy to destroy you. I hope I have enough self-control to contain my words, but at this point I can make no guarantees.

To anyone who was a fan, I am sorry. It was glorious while it lasted.

If you want to hear more from me, go to The Bitchery. It's not going to be pretty.


"For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.”
- Audrey Hepburn

Backpacks and beads

Before I get to pictures, there is something I'd like to say.

The most stylish thing you can do is be courteous of those around you. That being said, be aware of the girth of your backpacks. I am 5'0". I realize you may not see me standing near you in chapel or in the 'Ho, but that doesn't change the fact that I am, indeed, standing there. When you fail to pay attention and swing your fattened sacks around, they hit me in the face. This gives me rage.

What does this have to do with style?:
1. Courtesy is always in fashion.
2. Your backpack could potentially scrape up my face, making me look sub-chic for days.
3. When I have rage I judge you quickly and harshly. And I am known to hold a wicked grudge.
4. Your backpacks are fugly. I can see them more closely than you - they're eye-level for me.

Pay attention. That's all I ask. Otherwise I may be forced to make a snide comment to your face. You don't want that. I'm very good at forming hurtful phrases. It's a gift.

Kisses,
Dani.

Ok, now on to the reason you are all here.

Yesterday I somewhat posed a challenge to SNU males, imploring them to try a little harder. Two gentlemen may have been trying a hair too hard today.





Full suits. In Brian's defense [top photo], he had a design presentation this morning. Cody [bottom photo] just wanted to play Ken. Trying too hard? Maybe. But I'll take the suits over muscle Ts and basketball shorts any day.


Other strange happenings:
I was sitting in chapel preparing for a superbly revelatory speech on Christian sexuality when I noticed a young lady in the row in front of my had something stuck in her hair. As I was about to inform her that there was something unsightly dangling in her hair I realized that the object was intentionally placed there.



Hair wrap. With beads.

Yep. That just happened.

I haven't worn those, nor have I seen them worn, outside the context of junior-high church camp.



[I completely forgot this young lady's name. My B.]
Clean + modern + a slight preppie influence = adorbs. And the best thing I've seen so far today. [I am a HUGE fan of argyle, BT Dubs.]


Hopefully I will see something life-shattering at dinner tonight. I'm really being let down on all fronts.

Sundresses tomorrow, ladies. Enjoy the last warm days while you can.

"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
-Yves Saint Laurent

SNUzing. Losing.

What a dreadfully boring day. I didn't even see anything remotely horrific enough to send me into a sarcasm frenzy.

I'd kill for someone to start emulating Bjork or Tilda Swinton right now. [That woman can even make Dior look terrible. How she does it, I'll never know. Tilda, please - put on some makeup. Wear clothes with SHAPE. Quit slicking back you hair. You're not loud or funny enough to look like an uber dyke. You have a model-thin body that you hide in sacks. You have magnificent pale skin that you let shine like an Exxon oil spill. Your hair has glorious color and you always oil it down - probably with your own face grease. It's such a waste.]

The girl with two pairs of basketball shorts? Remember her? [We'll henceforth call her 2Pair.]

Today was gray day for 2Pair, apparently.



Seriously - who started this trend?
Do you just not change out of your sleepwear from the night before, or do you consciously choose to wear this type of ensemble? If it's laziness, that's one thing [not that it's any more tolerable], but if you choose to dress this way, it's just as easy to throw on a pair of jeans and a better fitting t-shirt. I'm just saying.

Jeremy, my love, never fails me.



It's not that difficult, gentlemen. Give it a try. I'm willing to bet you'll begin to rise socially. [Note the lack of dreadlocks . . . . . . ladies like it that way. HINT HINT.] [BT Dubs - rich purple and pale yellow - very nice color combo.]

To make up for the lack of good commentary, I present you with a new section. Hopefully it will become somewhat regular.

Things That Don't Belong

[One of these things is not like the other . . . . .]

There are just some pieces of clothing that do not fit in certain cities. Would I like to wear Viktor & Rolf every now and again [that is, if I could afford V&R]? Hell yes! [Of their last collection, I would KILL for the gray ruffled coat and the black trench.] Does it belong on the streets of OKC? No. [Oddly, that was the theme of their last collection.]

So here is what I found [Saturday] that just does not seem to fit OKC.



Neon "light" print [Sprint commercial much?], "fur" lined zip-up hoodie, you belong in Detroit. Or some other urban area I don't plan on visiting any time soon. And by soon I mean ever.


"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
-Yves Saint Laurent

EDIT:

Dinner. Dreads.

On a woman.

Long and lopsided and of varying lengths and blond with dark roots and nappy and frizzy and dirty and quite probably smelly and dear Mother Coco I am having a panic attack and my life is flashing before my eyes and I've only worn couture three times and I haven't yet redeemed myself for wearing clogs in junior high and I can't breathe and I am too young and pretty and fabulous and witty and delightful to be dying and dear Saint Laurent WHY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

It's not that I am against alternative hairstyles - I was rocking the asymmetrical bob way before that whore Vicki Becks popularized it - and that means WAY before all you bitches. [I am now growing my hair out since noticing that far too many soccer moms were sporting the 'do for me to feel like the fabulous 22 year old that I am.] What I am against is hairstyles that make you look like you are:

A. Homeless
B. Dirty and pungent
C. A mobile shelter for all manner of insects and rodents
OR
D. A massive tool. As evidenced by the Wigger movement of the late 90s and early 00s [skinny white boys in FUBU, anyone?][FUBU, as you may or may not know, stands for "for us, by us." The company is not named FWBN (think about that acronym a bit).], costuming yourself as a member of another society is just plain idiotic.

EDIT 2:

Breaking News from OU!

Spotted by my favorite bitch, Emily Beer:



A bit hard to see, but I am sure you can at least see the floral-print pants on that lady. And, contrary to my first instinct, she is not a misguided professor. No, she is a 27 year old Ph.D. student. Per Em, these delightful pants were paired with "a rose colored cord jacket, a sparkly brooch, and Doc mary-janes. It was tragic in every possible sense." We have been informed that the hems of these pants barely grazed the tops of the brown MJs. Black socks were prominent. [I'd give points for the socks at least being of a dark shade, but that goes against everything I stand for.] [This young woman is also, according to a (probably) highly biased source, a deranged Mormon. While that may explain the wardrobe, that is not for this blog to judge. At least not in print.]

Trendy

Happy weekend!

Good:

I saw a doll this afternoon. Pink striped sundress, white skimmers, raspberry cardi. Her hair is what made her incredibly adorable. Big blond ringlets all over the place. It was a sweet beginning to a hopefully good weekend.

Also spotted: gray sundress with a printed hem, gold sandals. [There was a photo, but I'm lazy. It's Friday.] Presh, presh, presh.


Bad:

Before we get to the bad, a friend of mine - Jessica Taylor, who regularly looks fabulous - comes up to me at lunch, wearing a white T and green Sofees - she'd come straight from a work out - and says that as soon as she was walking up to the caf she thought to herself, "Shit, Danielle is going to say I was the worst dressed person today."

That is magic.

Sorry to disappoint, but there was much worse.

I am not for women wearing basketball shorts [unless actually playing basketball or working out, etc]. I think they are among the most defeminizing clothes out there. Say what you will of my beliefs about gender roles, but I'm with Diane Von Furstenburg - "Feel like a woman, wear a dress!" I truly don't know how to feel feminine in a pair of those . . . . things. Call me old fashioned, but I believe in women looking like women.

Girls here wear them all the time [with various sizes of muffin top]. ALL THE TIME. Nothing puts a rage in my heart faster than a pair of basketball shorts, a fitted t-shirt or over-sized hoodie, and unwashed hair.

That being said, there is a girl I have noticed on campus who has decided to make this her uniform. I've also noticed that she only has two pairs of these shorts. That's it, just two. And while I hate the shorts altogether, I'm feeling a bit of a Woody Allen moment here. "The food was terrible, and such small portions."

The whole situation is very disturbing.


Ugly:

Gurkee's. "What the fuck are Gurkee's," you ask. They happen to be fugly-ass, broke-down, janky "Jesus" rope sandals.



Not my Jesus.

My Jesus wears Tom Ford.

I will make a deal with you, Gurkee's fans. I will allow you to wear your ugly ass sandals in peace when you prove to me that you can do the following:

*Feed 5,000 + individuals with 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish
*Change water into wine [and none of that boxed shit, either]
*Heal the blind and ill with a single touch
*Resurrect both others and yourself from the dead [I'll give you three days to accomplish the latter]

"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
-Yves Saint Laurent

Richard Simmons

YES YOU CAN!!!!

Walking back from dinner tonight - oh yummy, yummy Sodex'ho, how I love thee [especially when it's steak night - a vegetarian's one night in heaven.] I saw the Garey/ Hatley bash wrapping up. Everyone was dressed up in 50s attire - my favorite era - and most looked precious.

So I ask you, ladies - why can you not look precious every day? Obviously you are capable.

There will be no bad comments today as I am too saddened by your apathy to be my normal, upbeat, snarky self.

Two photos, however.

Cole Speck was wearing fabulous tassel earrings today. Beyond adorable.




A bit hard to see, [phone cameras are the worst] but these were gold tassels made of chain. Love.



And Rachel Hoile looked smashing in her [probably thrifted - I LOVE thrifting] pink shift.



Totes presh, yes?

Please dress like this on a regular day. If people stare it's only because you look amazing.



"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
-Yves Saint Laurent


EDIT:

I went to Faith & Film forum tonight. [Don't judge me - they were showing Lars and the Real Girl.] I reaffirmed my hatred for a certain style of hair.

Dread Locks. They are beyond disgusting. Nothing says "I don't bathe" more than a head full of nappy-ass hair nuggets sticking out all over your head. You are not a rasta. Cut that shit off and wash your damn hair.

Lady Marmalade

Ok. I simply cannot start this post on a good note. [Perhaps it'll be good to always save the best for last, anyway. Ending on a high note, and all that business.]

Bad:

Bright kelly green VS Pink calf-length sweatpants which had seen their better days a couple years ago - these things were nubbly beyond belief. [If there is one thing I love more than sweats in public, it's janky, worn-out sweats in public.] That wasn't the biggest problem. Oh no.

Atomic wedgie. Atomic doesn't quite cover it. Take the power of the atom bomb dropped on Hiroshima and add it to the power of the one dropped on Nagasaki. Now imagine that exact force pushing those nubbly green pants up that girl's crack. [Since when did wedgies become a chic accessory? Did I miss that in the last issue of Elle?]

These things were crawling so far up this young lady's derriere that were the ass to have "BOOTYLICIOUS" written on it, all we would be able to read would be "BS."

You have a few options in this situation, girls:

1. Buy pants that fit appropriately. Yeah. You can do that. They come in all sizes. It's magical.
2. Don't wear your ill-fitting, broke-down sweat pants in public. Some people believe in a small sense of decorum when roaming about before their fellow man. [I like to call those people sane.]
3. Pick that shit. Either Courtney Love style or discretely. I vote discretely, but if you must release, then you must. As long as I don't have to look at that painful wad of fabric jammed up your ass I'm ok.


Ugly:

Apparently big hair is also back in style. And no, not the clean voluminous kind. Think Christina Aguilera a la 2001 Blockbuster Awards. Oh hell, don't bother picturing it. I'll show you:



You wish I was kidding. So do I. This is not hyperbole, people. I have witnesses.

In other ugly news, these bad boys are hanging up - available for purchase - at the dear old Target. While I'm sure someone, somewhere - possibly even moi - could make them work fabulously, I do not want to deal with all the people who think they can work them and fail miserably.




That's right. Floral printed leggings. Welcome back 1993! I'm sure someone, somewhere, missed you. I'm still confused about them. They could be good. Or they could be HEINOUS. One request - please don't wear them as pants. I cannot handle a floral printed thut right now. Campus drama has put me in a delicate condition.

Good:

Well fitted printed tunic paired with dark jeans, sandals, and a lovely pink cardigan. [I love me a good cardi.] I would go so far as to describe the ensemble as presh.



Thanks for making my day livable. Those sweats nearly sent me into a self-mutilation frenzy.


I dub tomorrow "Flower Child Day." Impress me with free-spirited, bohemian madness.



"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
-Yves Saint Laurent

Ch-ch-ch-changes

So, there will be some changes coming to this place. Nothing drastic, so no worries.

As I prepare to take this blog to the SNU public, and in light of the chapel blog that has popped up, I feel it necessary to promise the following:

I will NEVER name any offenders. Photographs of offenders will either be used only with express permission of the individual or their faces will be blocked. Jests will not be made about an individual's body, with the exception of moobs, camel toe, wedgies, poor hygiene, or when the clothing is exposing or distorting the body in such a manner that it is distracting. Sarcasm will be used. Frequently. But only with the intent of making the blog humorous. It is not intended to hurt an individual personally and should not be read as such.


Let's get to it:


I was feeling sick and bitter for most of he day, and therefore I fail to bring you a proper analysis.

The only thing I have to offer is this:

Not bad. Not ugly. But HEINOUS:

Brown. Jersey. CULOTTES.

For the love of all that is stylish and holy, WHY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Ladies. Listen. Please.

They. Make. You. Look. GIGANTIC.
It defies the laws of physics how wide your asses look in those "pants."
I know they are wide-legged, and therefore are very deceiving. They have lied to you, and it's a tragedy. But the adage does go, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

These things have fooled you so many times your grandchildrens' grandchildren will be living with the shame.



I may give up on hoping to see beautiful things. I keep getting my hopes up for nothing.



"Fashions fade, style is eternal"
-Yves Saint Laurent

Ralphing

Long break. Apologies.


Yesterday there wasn't anything too horrific, but there was a fabulous high-waisted nearly-neon pink pencil skirt that I feel is worth mentioning. [I am loving neon, even though it is not "in" this fall - I've recently purchased an acid yellow cable-knit sweater, and a flannel print scarf of that same yellow and black.] It was worn with a black fitted t-shirt, which I find to be a bit safe, but I'm not going to make a big stink about it.



Good:

Ralph Lauren big pony Polo. Yes Rachel Zoe, I die. [For OKC RL is a pretty big deal.]


Bad:

Pink and purple zebra print handkerchief hem tunic. On a rather large young lady. [Please girls, come talk to me. I will help you dress in a manner flattering to your body type. It's not hard, I promise.] She looked like a circus tent. That is not hyperbole.

Ugly:

I JUST got stopped on the sidewalk by a girl a barely know who insisted on carrying on a ten minute conversation with me about nothing. At least I think it was nothing. I didn't hear a word she said because . . . . . . . . Her teeth were yellow. And not I-just-ate-a-Cheeto yellow. They were my-last-toothbrush-was-a-stocking-stuffer yellow. And there was that white goop all along the gum-line. How can I even comment on fashion when this place clearly has bigger issues with hygiene?


Tomorrow I want to see a new haircut. The Vickie Becks is a little tired. [It is becoming the style of choice for soccer moms nationwide.]




"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
- Yves Saint Laurent

DAAAAAAAYUM.

Successful day! Rejoice!


The Good:

Precious young lady in a vibrant printed top, not exactly a tunic, but close, and cute red patent mary-jane flats.

AND

A very sexy man [who is a good friend of mine] rocking a cerise button down with a black vest and tie. Dark wash jeans, white sneaks. [There is nothing sexier than a good looking guy in a vest.]

Love to both of them.



The Bad:

At least five pairs of Crocs. They irritate the hell out of me. Unless you're working in a hospital those things are completely unacceptable. They are Styrofoam for fuck's sake.



The Ugly:

Ripped jeans. Not carefully destructed, but Eddie Vedder wannabe to the Nth degree destroyed. The girl's ENTIRE upper thigh was visible. As in the hole was so big I could see around her leg. Inside her pants.

If that shit comes back into style I will give up.

Let's hope it never comes to that. I'm lifting up my prayers to Saint Laurent tonight.




Tomorrow I'd like to see a striking color combination. Like a nice grey with a pop of mustard.




"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
Yves Saint Laurent

Banksy

Today was not a success.

In fact it's failure might be indicative of the potential return of the cape kids. Let's pray that winter comes and goes without their presence.



Good:

Two highlights today. Hoorah!

1. Cute hooded jacket, in almost a bomber-cut, bright blue and black lumber-jack flannel print. I'm loving oversized flannel patterns lately.

2. Crisp button down shirt, black, with fairly intricate white embroidery. Classic. Good job.





Bad:

O-V-E-R-S-I-Z-E-D hoodie worn with tiny cotton shorts and wellies. [Today was fairly cold and rainy.] Those shorts are appropriate in the dorm room or in cheer practice, ladies.




Ugly:

And, damn. Do I mean UGLY. [It took all my strength not to start crying hysterically.]

Jeans. Signed by high-school comrades, no doubt. They were completely covered in Sharpie signatures of all colors. Worn with what, you ask? A Joseph-and-the-Amazing-Technicolor-Dreamcoat quilted jacket. Waist length. With heart-shaped pockets.

I haven't seen Skittle puke like that since my dance coach had a lapse of costuming judgment six years ago. And even then, those babies were made for the stage, not the street.


Listen here, baby. Just because Dolce and Gabbana did graffiti pants [and not even recently, mind you - I believe they came out in the early days of Sex and the City, unless I'm mistaken] does not justify what you did today.

I consider outfits like that a genuine form of terrorism.


Tomorrow I'd like to see a lovely [pressed] knee-length garden-party dress. If the weather is agreeable, of course.



"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
Yves Saint Laurent

Wilkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome

It seems that there always needs to be a first post, the ice-breaker, the voicing of the mission statement and all that mess. And it is this: I live in a style wasteland. SNU. Where fashion comes to die.

I realize that college students need to be granted some lenience. I realize that central Oklahoma is no Milan. I realize that even the best dressed Americans make boo boos from time to time [Gwyneth at the 2002 Oscars, anyone?]. We're all allowed our 15 minutes in gauchos. Still. I have had enough.

Now, I am certainly not calling for Balenciaga day dresses to be worn to class every day, that would be ridiculous given the setting. [Ridiculous and utterly fabulous!]

All I want to see is clean shirts. And perhaps a nice pair of flats or the occasional pump every now and again. Hair that doesn't look like you slept with wolverines and couldn't be bothered with a brush this morning. And something other than sweats every day.

I don't think it's too much to ask.

While the majority of the student body rocks jeans and some form of cotton shirt [T, tank, button-down, what-have-you] there is always one individual who wakes up thinking that somehow it is a good idea to dress like Mario Batali. I'm ok with a standard wardrobe. Jeans are just fine in my book [I wear them nearly every day]. T-shirts too. We are, afterall, college students. Tuition payments really dig into the YSL fund [it's the sharpest pain I know]. However I am not pro-croc, pro-mullet, pro-gaucho, pro-mini-skirt in the dead of winter, etc.

Until I'm living in a land of Laboutin-clad Upper East-Siders and bohemian beauties from the Village, I am forced to spill my disdain here.

This is for the [rarely] good, the [omnipresent] bad, and the [tragically] ugly.


Let's get to it.




The Good:

Came last week, but I'm counting it anyway. I saw a young man carrying a Louis Vuitton Poche Documents.



Ah, l'amour.




The Bad:

This morning was beautiful- sunny, blue skies, perfect [albeit hot as shit] weather. It felt like such a good day, and I woke with the hope of seeing something a tiny bit hip. Chic even. At the very least I was hoping to see anything that didn't cause me to upchuck my lowfat yogurt.

Of course I was dead wrong.

Good morning, Dani! And what should we see strolling down the sidewalk? Leggings. As pants.

And not as in leggings-as-pants under a nicely belted sweater dress [which could be fabulous on the right individual]. I mean leggings-as-pants with a cheek-skimming tank top tunic.

I could see the girl's business. And her thut.

Oh yes, ladies and gents, the thut was VERY prominent. [Normally I would never comment on a body part as a faux pas. I truly believe that people are beautiful in every shape - except for those sporting moobs: I find them unnatural and unsettling.]

For those who are unaware, the thut is that little piece of flesh where the thigh meets up with the butt. Models are bred to be thut-less. For the rest of us it is completely natural.

It is not, however, natural to put it on display. Outside of camel-toe and moose-knuckle it is the single-most disgusting display of flesh I can think of.

I know that Heidi Klum is wearing a TON of shiny leggings on PR lately. [Hers are actually pants. Very, very, very tight pants.] But, as a model, she is not only thutless, but also held to a dfferent set of fashion commandments than the rest of us.

Ladies, leggings are not interchangeable for proper pants. [Truly they're a bit out of style anyway. I'll let it slide if you're wearing them underneath a dress; I know it's hard to let go of our favorite trends. Especially when you're living in a place that is no less than 5 years behind current trends.]

If you want a more fitted bottom, buy a freaking pair of skinny jeans. They are everywhere and come in cuts that are far more flattering than the skin-tight to the ankle skinnies we see the emos walking about in.




The Ugly:

Oddly, other than the thut this morning [truthfully that should probably be down here with some lesser infraction above], there was nothing that made me want to vomit. I'd say that makes this Tuesday a success.




Tomorrow I'd like to see a full, belted skirt a la 1954.




"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
- Yves Saint Laurent