When Fashion Trends Attack
Dear Fashion Industry,
We've been compadres for a long time, but sometimes you do things I just don't understand. I have to lay it on the table here, there are certain aspects of you I am just not OK with.
For fall, you've given me shoulder pads. Wait, excuse me. "Statement shoulders," is what you call it and I want to make sure I get this right. Frankly, I don't want to look like I have a shrunken head. I also don't have any future plans to play linebacker for the Raiders. I don't care how tiny my waist looks in comparison, there is a reason my mother talks about shoulder pads like someone with post-traumatic stress disorder. There is a reason I look at past photo albums or movies like Working Girl and laugh. Hard.
Same thing goes for the gravity-defying coifs that may or may not need a steel infrastructure, anything resembling a headdress and something I can only describe as a bikini bottom with tights (Marc Jacobs, I'm looking at you). Do. Not. Want. That's right, I unsubscribe from these trends.
Right now, you're probably laughing to yourself and thinking I'll come crawling back. But I won't. I can stand on my own two feet. I don't need your shoes with platforms so high, the heels suspiciously float aboveground (Nina Ricci, you're on notice). I'm not a newborn baby deer, and I need to be able to walk without my knees knocking, my legs trembling, or my mind wasting precious willpower and positive thoughts just to put one foot in front of the other. I have things to do. I have walking to accomplish. I'm busy.
And you know what, Fashion Industry? I think that makes me pretty cool.
I hope we can still be friends.