When Animals Attack... Silky Bars Shall Hold Them Back

So, you folks are saying "Well, UC, that's not so bad, really!". And maybe that's true. Maybe I'm just grasping at straws.

Maybe vertical turquoise stripes held together by a turquoise tropical fishnet (much finer netting than standard stocking "fishnet", so as not to damage the scales of expensive tropical fish. I don't know if that's really what it's called, but I've owned a hundred-dollar fish, and damned if I was going to scoop that little bastard up in hooker stockings) is actually quite elegant.

Especially when that's merely the sheath to go over the stylish navy-turquoise-black-and-cream mixed-carnivore pattern.

You'll note that pretty much every exotic cat in the kingdom gets a few patches on this killer critter quilt (I adore it when alliteration can exist with different letters!).

And naturally, the brown (!!) ribbon sash/belt ties it all in perfectly. Over the shoulder would have been trop rococo, n'est-ce pas? - but this, well, this adds that touch of class that can't be forced. At least, not by someone who has no taste.

Perhaps it's just me, but I detect a sort of embarrassment in the body language on our poor mannequin. It reminds me of the stiffened "eww" posture you'd get if your mom insisted you try on some horrifying dress with a piped Peter Pan collar and velvet buttons, which you knew would hurt when they poked your ribs after the other kids shoved you on your face in the schoolyard. And stole your Lik-A-Stik.

I sympathize with the mannequin. Forced to pose in a store window in shame. But at least she had a fellow sufferer. Her windowmate was also in a tatty get-up, and I'll post her soon.

Been a Miner for a Crotch of Gold

Well, it's been a while since I was stopped dead in my tracks by a mannequin. But tonight I was, by this charming display. I call this one "Goldthinger". It's part Shirley Eaton (look it up. I'll wait.), part Sinead O'Connor in the "Troy" video... and half Oscar statuette. As in, half OF an Oscar statuette.

For the coup de grace, however, you have to have a look at the closer-up pic

I know it's not a great pic, but squint a little. Yeah, you'll see it. Honest.

There ya go.

Yes, indeed. The MANNEQUIN has camel toe. An inanimate plastic body has a cooch wedgie. Amusingly, it almost resembles moose knuckle, which shouldn't even be possible.

But I digress.

I ask you this: if the mannequin looks like she's on her way to crotch damage, what hope will actual human female have to survive the agonies of walking half a block? We should probably consider contacting the FDA about getting these approved as abstinence promotion devices. Pain is a powerful demotivator.

And for the boys, sandpaper condoms!

To Armpitity... and Beyond

This might not be the most garish and awful thing I've ever seen, but its variety of odd details combine to be enough of a mess to take a few swipes at...

So.

In the glorious future, this is what all KFC employees will wear. It's an apron, it's a uniform, it's got a swish neckerchief - I say, I say, I say, boy!

The designer thought that a giant lapel and collar - both on the jackety part AND the saucy, shiny pink shirt underneath - a cinchy belt, use cheapo sweatshirt-seam stitching at the edges, just wasn't quite enough of a statement.

What was that one finishing touch, that would make this jacket stand out? Of course! Scalloped mille-feuilles around the shoulder seams, evocative of piped mashed potatoes!

Because nothing says class and comfort like a Coquille St. Jacques border in your armpits.

Imagine... Someone thought this looked like a good idea

Ahh, this store was a treasure trove of unfortunate couture. Every week, my friend M and I would walk by on our way to dinner, and a new monstrosity would be there. Some were overwrought rococo delights, and others were simple in their awfulness. Like this one.

I think of this as "Knit Shit Fit", although "#9 Nightmare" would also work and be more thematically correct. This ensemble features a fat-wool knit sweater - short sleeved! - with a loose but identifiable representation of John Lennon's face integrated. The trademark granny glasses are, however, hand-stitched on afterwards, sloppily, in contrasting colors and irregular diameters. Pfft, consistency is so bourgeois.

On top of that, is a delightful bilious yellow extra-long scarf. Because you gotta keep your neck warm if you're in a short-sleeved sweater, right? And everyone looks awesome in faintly greened babyshit tints. That's the O-Negative of colors, if I'm not mistaken.

This store window (also the source for the Nancy Reagan horror show, and the demise of which I shall forever lament) also had an awesome outfit featuring what I think of as "diaper pants", where there's a waistband, and then tights from the knee down, but between those two places is a baggy, pleaty sack with the crotch at mid-thigh. You know, lots of room to disguise the loaded diaper within. Alas, it was black on black, and the photos didn't show the subtleties. Just imagine chafing. Lots of chafing. But I suppose you could skip carrying a purse.

When First Ladies Attack

This was in the front window of a rather posh (or aspiring to posh, at least) clothing store not far from my home.

I call this "Nancy Reagan's West Beverly Hills High School 1982 prom dress".

In case it's not clear, the dress is a shiny red sack in a mid-thigh length, ending in a rather coarse curtain-like wide hem.

It has gathered poofy shoulders AND cuffs, and those cuffs also have doubled inset cuffs in a shiny cerise. Because nothing goes together quite as stylishly as bright red and cerise.

If you're an Easter egg.

The designer also included a matching cerise bow/scarf/wrap that will conveninently allow the model to hang herself in shame.

On the plus side, any wearer can be very sure they will not be accidentally shot by deer hunters or struck by cars at a construction site.

The one that started it all

This is the one that started it all.

I was innocently walking through the shopping mall directly underneath the towers where our movers and shakers and style gurus gather 9-5 each weekday (except certain holidays, and of course not including the 2-martini lunch breaks and such. Naturally).

And in this quasi-mecca of expense accounts and power suits, I saw this.

This.

This... inexplicable - and unwearable - dress/suit. Thing.

And I pondered.

Somewhere, there was someone who thought that olive, indigo, red, and green was a good set of colors. They also thought that combining them in vertical stripes, donuts AND horizontal stripe trim was a stylish pattern. They also thought that big fat lapels on a boxy cut, plus a flarey skirt, would be pleasing.

Who was this person? Did they graduate from an accredited design program, or, more likely, clown college? How many levels of their company approved the fabric and design? Was this the pet project of the owner, now half-blind at 87 years old, and perhaps a bit off his or her game? Or, god forbid, were there multiple people who thought this outfit was going to be in demand?

When the designs where shipped overseas for indentured sweatshop workers to sew together, did these unfortunates have a bright spot in their day, and giggle momentarily when they saw the end result? I can only speculate.

And when those assembled pieces returned to our shores, one was proudly hung right up front in the store window, the showcase of their wares. Was the store owner a relative of the designer, or was there yet another person who thought this... item would draw in customers with its bold beauty?

I suppose that there's something for everyone, or perhaps one person for everything. But I rather hope I'm wrong.

I maintain that the only accessories that could salvage this getup are a fright wig and supersized shoes.

Welcome to Unfortunate Couture, the Introduction

It should be noted, up front, that I have no training in fashion. I don't even have an interest in fashion. I don't even claim to have particularly good taste. I'm sure some of what I consider appalling will be considered very stylish by other people. That's great - but they can get their own blog. This is where I get to post the abominations I see, and mock them. If you like my critique, awesome, and feel free to comment. If not, feel free to comment, or go find a site/blog that better suits your taste.

Anyhow, here's how it started.

I live in a large, metropolitan city. We have a Fashion Week. We have a Fashion District. We have several areas of the city where fashionistas of all stripes congregate and shop. Or so I'm told - I mentioned I'm not a fashion maven.

Anyhow, there are lots of clothing stores aimed at people who like fancy duds, or who are businesspeople and want power clothes, and so on.

Every so often, I am struck very nearly dumb passing by a store window. I see something I consider so hideous, garish, or simply inexplicable, that I am compelled to snap a shot of it. And then I mock it. Here.

So welcome, my friends, to Unfortunate Couture. There will be hits and misses, no doubt, but hey, you get what you pay for.

Naturally, feel free to email me pics if you spot a fashion crime.

There are, however, rules. First, no bridesmaid dresses. That's fish in a barrel. Second, nothing from the runways. That stuff isn't intended for real humans to actually wear. Outfits here must be from actual stores, and preferably in the front window. And third, only actual "designed" outfits. Not the lady in your office who thinks the plaid pants and floral jacket go together. This is about designers' crimes, not color-blind or taste-impaired people.

So, I commence...