Fashion Police: A Column From 2006

Grunge look, February 2006

Good Lord, Sweetypies… it seems like I touched a nerve with my last column… who would have known that so many of you were so, well… attached to your little zip off trousers… Apologies, dumplings… I’m just trying to make things right in this world. I will try to be gentle with you this month. But really. I do feel it’s time we had a little chat about this so-called…grunge look.

Possums, we all know that back home, looking like a rock star is cool and looking like a starving artist is even cooler, but we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto, and the rules here are slightly different. The wearing of ripped jeans does not, for example, denote the fact that you have dismissed the whole concept of fashion as shallow and meaningless, nor that you are making some sort of post-ironic reference to the 80’s – it suggests that you have been in a major car accident and have not yet received adequate medical attention.

Likewise the moth-eaten cardigan. Come on, duckys – who are we fooling? We all know that you bought a plane ticket to get here, and that instead of working, you devote your life to the drinking of banana milkshakes and the planning of the Next Drunken Spree. You’re surrounded by people who think you’re a millionaire and, in relative terms, they’re not far off. There are homeless people in this town who dress more carefully than some foreigners.

As for the whole shoe question – this is not optional, people. I have some… acquaintances… back home who live in the countryside and claim that not wearing shoes helps them “connect with the Earth”.

Whatever. Here, in a major city, with doggy do, spit and god knows what else on the sidewalks, the only thing you’re connecting with is the chance at some serious bacterial infection. Buckle up, campers.

One final word, grungelings. I have also heard the theory that, after a day or two of not showering, the human body ceases to smell. Wrong. Wrong. WRONG. Let me, and everybody else who doesn’t want to share a bus seat with you, set you straight: What happens is that you cease to smell yourself. Everybody else has a very good idea of your comings and goings, and well in advance, believe me.

OK, sugarplums. That’s all I have space for this month. Until next month, remember – if you can’t step out in style, for god’s sakes, just stay in.

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