It’s okay, you can say it…I don’t mind. Really.
I know that my current wardrobe is…
There’s no two ways about it. Though kind people might say my closet is full of “staples” or “classics,” the truth of the matter is that my current cast of clothing options is dull. This is not to say that I don’t enjoy color or prints or a nicely-designed and classy pair of jeans, it’s simply to say that I’m not very trendy.
Oh, indeed, like many a young flash-foward high schooler, savvy college student, or twenty-something go-getter, my wardrobe once swam in ALL the trends. From the big sweaters to hippie chic to disco-era madness of the mid to late 1990s, to the goth-ness, rave stylings, and boho-whatever of the 2000s, I once wore it all. Or was, at least, willing to try it all. At least once. Because, why not? During those times, my clothing was my identity. It showed the world just who I wanted to be on any given day. It also helped cover up many personal issues and downfalls. Clothing, fashion, style, it all has the power to make you feel fan-fucking-tastic.
Why am I blathering on about clothing and fashion, right here, right now? Because of these:
You can see more pictures over on Bustle.com in this article: These Butt Zipper Jeans From Vetements x Levis Are The Latest Bizarre Take On Denim
Oh yes, this boring person still does follow fashion, because.
Also, apparently there’s also a version of these butt zipper as shorts, as well. So…yeah.
Anyway, ass-revealing trousers aren’t new news, as humankind has been engineering such delightful garments since the beginning of…well…trousers. But this weird combination of jeans+gimp suit is just plain odd. Does the butt zipper go all the way around front? What if you’re sitting on a bus and the zipper decides it no longer wants to be zipped? Who the hell wants to sit on a bunch of zippers anyway?? And let’s not even go down the “going commando” road because that seems simply unpleasant.
But all of this complaining comes from the me of today. The me of yesteryear would have been more than intrigued by these strange jeans. And I probably would have seen all sorts of…um…potential in them. (And let’s just leave that at that, shall we?) But the me of yesteryear is dead now, and I’m left here wondering why anyone would want to invest in such dumb clothes??
Here’s a quick rundown of some of the dumbest fashion I ever bought into. (And when I say “dumb,” I mean the choice was dumb for me, not for the population at-large. Well…maybe.)
I went through an extended bohemian-hippie-inspired phase once. And at the time, I believed that the crowning jewel of my wardrobe would be a pair of high-heeled clogs, particularly the studded version of them from Candies, a popular brand back then (“vintage” today…SIGH.) Well, my flower child notions extended into other parts of my life, like, say…my bank account. Which meant that I was mostly broke, always. So expensive shoes were out of the picture. But my happy ass eventually found a knock-off brand of clogs at TJ Maxx or Marshall or some such, and I couldn’t have been more pleased with myself. …until I actually tried to wear them. Long story short, them shits were uncomfortable as fuck.
I’m not afraid to admit that part of my heady fashion exploration days involved a short trot through an underwear-as-outerwear chapter. (Jody Watley and Pebbles are coming to mind for some reason.) which is all well in good, but for whatever reason, my chapter had to be super shiny. I especially gravitated towards undergaments that were sequined. Like, sequined all over. Top and bottom. See where I’m going with this? No? Okay, if you know anything about sequins it’s that while they produce a lovely, shiny layer of sparkle, that sparkle comes at the cost of texture. Sequins have sharp edges, because they are semi-hard plastic. Sew hundreds of them onto a garment, and you’ve got yourself what amounts to fabric covered in hundreds of teeny tiny circular blades. Blades that can dig into anything, from other articles of clothing to skin. My skin and the skin of others. Skin that one would never want hundreds of teeny tiny circular blades anywhere near. Get the picture? Yeah? Eww. Sorry ’bout that.
Call it vegan leather. Call it vinyl. Call it plastic. whatever you call it, it’s pleather. Shiny, plastic-y, fake leather. Now, I established that my most fashionable days were also my most broke-ass days. So it didn’t help that somewhere along the way, a leather fetish set in for awhile. But I couldn’t afford actual leather (and my animal righteous self wouldn’t allow it anyway), so I turned to pleather. And let me tell you, I had a lot of it. From boots to pants to vests to jackets to you name it. And I didn’t limited myself to plain ol’ black pleather, either. Oh no. I had burgundy, brown, and bright blue pleather things as well. I had things that were dressed up with pleather accents. I even had pleather jewelry. I’m not proud of any of it, but it did happen. And you know the really big problem with pleather? Okay, beside the fact that it’s cheap looking, plastic, and uncomfortable? It doesn’t last. Pleather eventually rips, delaminates, warps, and melts if you happen to get a little to close to an open flame. (Which totally didn’t happen to this one pleather, fur-trimmed jacket I had. In my defense, no one told me until it was too late. I still maintain that I someone was actually trying to set me on fire…though it’s possible that I just dropped the lighter. I’m pretty uncoordinated. Being in that goofy jacket probably didn’t help any. But it sure was cute.)
Care to share any of your favorite fashion faux pas so I don’t feel like a goddamn idiot here all by myself?