Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Bo Ho Ho And A Bottle of Rum

I'm informed by several of the mainstream media pundits that our fashion options for Spring '05 are two: Nautical and Bohemian. This corroborates the creeping sense of dread I've sensed emanating from the windows of Topshop and Urban Outfitters. Tunics and hippie skirts are back with a psychotic vengeance, and our alternative is what? The Sailor Suit. How did this happen? When was it decided that fashion, like beer and non-fiction, should be something you had to overcome your own natural defense systems to stomach?

Even direr news recently in the Guardian: trouser waists are, finally, rising again. I knew it would happen. The grim inevitability has haunted the back of my mind lo these many years, ever since the hegemony of the armpit-waisted Gap jean was gloriously overthrown and those of us unenticed by a fully-trousered torso could at last breathe free. The Long Summer of the Low-Rise Pants has been history's gift to me and my no-assed sistren, and I don't mean to seem ungrateful. Truly I have been fortunate. But I can't suppress a shudder of dread at the thought of trudging into Banana Republic to cinch up a new pair of cords snugly beneath my bosom. I think I'd best stock up on hipsters now. Is ten years' worth enough?

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