Fashionistas
I took a quick break from my editing work today to peruse a fashion magazine that a friend left in my car. This is probably the first time I've even picked one up in about ten years. I hate the fucking things...for so many different reasons that there's not even enough time to get into it. I've always just worn what I wanted, without much of a sense of whether it was in or not. I pretty much keep the same groove, fashionwise, and alternate between semi-hip and uberdork depending on what the outside world is cooing over at the time. I love people who just do their own thing and the rest of the world be damned. People who wear things because they make them feel good...not necessarily because they make them look good. I looked through the pages of this latest rag literally guffawing at some of the outfits these chicks are wearing. Joke's on you, honey must be the theme of the couturieres this season. When did it become stylish to starve yourself to the point where you look like a freakin' praying mantis!!?? Is heroin making yet another round with the models/actresses again? Or did it just never leave? I also see that cockroach killers are back in style. You know, those pointy-toe Witchy Poo shoes and boots? That's a fashion trend I'll glady ignore yet again. My tootsies need room to wiggle, thanks. I'm not going for the ankle-breaking stiletto heels either. Nope. I'll stick with my German prison matron clunkers. My grandmother wore those pointed stiletto heels for years...her feet looked like twisted roots by the time she was sixty. Pretty shoes, ugly feet, she'd say. Oh, and evidently the whole Flashdance thing is back. What a feeling. Yeah, right. So I'll stick to my bliss out here in the sticks, where I can wear whatever I want...or nothing at all. And where all the white trash fat boys wear belly shirts without even knowing how cool they are. ; )