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.