This year, I am selflessly giving up my quota of Santa requests to ask for gifts that will benefit all of mankind. Namely, the abolishment of certain trends/items of clothing that have brought us nothing but horror and despair.
How Santa wants to accomplish the extinction of these fashions—by killing off those perpetuating them, rendering said perpetrators invisible, focusing instead on the producers or the garments themselves—is at his discretion. I won’t tell Santa how to do his job.
(Though I WILL say that sending a small plane carrying Dov Charney, whomever is responsible for Chico’s, and everyone involved in the costuming for the second Sex and the City movie plummeting into frigid Atlantic waters would be an excellent start.)
I will be content to see the end of the following:
1. LEATHER PANTS (or any pant made of vinyl, pvc, or leather-facsimile)
I know. You’re offended. You had a pair of leather pants, and they were damn hot! What am I trying to say? Who do I think I am?
Look. I’m sure there are plenty of people who are visions of loveliness with their legs swaddled in cowhide or a synthetic echo of such. I’ve never seen these people in person, but I believe that they exist, because look:
Alas, you remember kindergarten? How if one student abused a privilege, the privilege was then rescinded for the whole class? I feel a similar principle applies, here. Maybe you look fabulous in your lace-up vinyl leggings—I’m sure you do, dear—but the vast majority of people are, to put it kindly, not flattered by leather pants. I once arrived at an internship to see my middle-aged supervisor wearing a pair (with a sweater set) and I’m pretty sure that constituted a Hostile Work Environment, which is illegal.
2. NON-NECESSITY-BASED SHORTS
You know who needs shorts? Camp counselors. Children in the summer. Parents chasing after children in the summer. People in untenably hot weather (this is why I would recommend a temperature-related exemption—the exact details of which, like at what degree the exemption takes effect, will take some further thought). I understand that sometimes it is just too hot for pants, and while part of me is of the opinion that this is a sign that you should stay indoors where it is air-conditioned, and another part of me would like to suggest a nice sundress, a third part of me has a toddler, and understands that children need to get out of the house even if it IS pushing 90, and playgrounds demand attire that prevents sand introducing itself to your undercarriage.
But FORMAL SHORTS? Shorts in the WINTER? Shorts when so many other options, like PANTS, would suffice?
NO. No. Short shorts often hit you at your widest part; longer shorts make you look like a stumpy Ranger Rick. Look at Mischa Barton up there! She looks like someone spliced her top half onto the bottom half of my elementary school gym teacher.
No. It will not stand. Not in shorts, at least.
3. NON-NECESSITY-BASED BOOTS
When I am huddled by my radiator on a day with windchills in the range of 30 below, my car invisible under a hump of snow, and I see a picture of some demi-famous twat in LA simpering out of Kitson in shearling boots and a TANK TOP…it…it…something threatens to snap inside of me.
One day it WILL snap, and I won’t be responsible for the consequences.
Miley, this means you. No one is above the law.
4. SACK WEAR
I do not think this means what you think it means. What it means is clothing that is marketed almost exclusively to people on whom it would be massively unflattering. Think Eileen Fisher or J.Jill, think swaths of burlap/raw silk with yardage more appropriate to duvet covers than to a garment, even if you ARE calling that garment “The Sunday Morning Tunic.”
Catalogs are frequent targets of my ire, and the catalogs for clothing like this inevitably feature lanky, six-foot-three models. Frankly, even they do not always look their best in these outfits, but they still look beautiful because, you know, they’re models. However then some poor woman built more like, well, me, sees the picture.
“Hey!” she thinks, “That looks so pretty (on her)! And comfortable!” The next thing you know, said woman’s wearing some shin-length “dune” colored caftan with seaglass buttons and resembling nothing more than a sad clown, when she could have looked perfectly ravishing if only someone had steered her toward a nice wrap dress and a fitted cardigan.
I could go on (turtlenecks under sweatshirts! GOD!), but maybe I shouldn’t take up all of Santa’s time. Would you like to add a few list items of your own?
Go ahead, don’t be shy. Santa’s listening.
About Alexa Stevenson
