I’m all for people being individuals in their fashion sense, unless it annoys me. I kid! No, I don’t. OK, maybe I do. Actually, I’m not sure. But what I do know is that even if you’re being original (or at least you think you are), sometimes you look like a total asshole.
The last time I was in Bushwick I saw a fella in a hot pink spandex onesie with black Doc Martens boots on, and he looked like an asshole. Not only did he look like an asshole because of his attire, but he probably is one, too, because he clearly suffers from a “Look at me! Look at me!” personality disorder which I’m assuming comes from not being hugged enough by his parents. This is an assumption, not a scientifically researched fact. But can we agree if you’re going to gallivant around town in certain get-ups, you’re actually vying for attention, comments and maybe even a Twinkie being chucked at your head? We can? Good.
Last night, unable to sleep, I stumbled across the above photo of someone by the name of Jessie J.. Based on the brief description, I gathered that she’s a singer (of some sort), from where (I don’t know), and she obviously doesn’t own a mirror. Or maybe she does own one, but it’s plastered with photos of Marilyn Monroe, so Ms. J. is constantly living under the delusion that she always looks super. I get that as a “musician,” she needs to be all “cutting edge,” but how absurd are these jeans? They don’t even look comfortable! They have no shape and sort of hang on her for dear life, hoping they won’t fall — oh, wait! They can’t fall as long as she keeps her knees bent because then her knees can catch them before they end up around her ankles. Awesome.
While I appreciate the built-in air conditioning factor involved with this look, overall they’re just dumb. So dumb, in fact, that if any of my friends showed up to brunch wearing these, I’d take her outside, kick her in the shin and say: “Bitch, please!” If she didn’t understand what I meant by my statement and my impeccable delivery of it that had all the necessary emphasis on the right places, I’d have to second guess our friendship, as well as her sanity. Maybe that makes me superficial, or maybe, just maybe, it means I really, really love my friends and don’t want them wandering the streets of New York City looking like assholes — especially if they’re doing that wandering next to me.
OK, who would rock these jeans? Any takers?