Junk in the Track
ok. this is the thing. i would take the time to try and present this in a humorous-slash-creative-slash-parodic format. however, i think the real point is just so pure and simple that it would be, shall we say, gilding the lily to do so. (ooh, "to do so," three two-letter words ending in "o" in a row. that seems like a "daily puzzler" type thing. or like in encyclopedia brown--you read those, right?--where encyclopedia figures out that some girl is lying because she says she doesn't know a word with 3 sets of double letters in a row, because she's totally a bookkeeper's daughter?) [note: my good, good friend [ERIN] and i were just recorded as having said, "she's hot...she's awesome...and she lives in, like, a CASTLE." re: dita von teese, obvi.] [other note: trader joe's gin: best 8 bucks you can spend.]
anyway. the point. WHAT IS WITH THE VELOUR TRACKSUITS? they first appeared in this fair city of los angeles, cradling countless pairs of silicone and labeling countless stairmastered booties with "juicy." side note: who wants their ass to be juicy? wouldn't "firm" or "toned" or perhaps "spankable" be more desirable as an adjective? they appeared quite a while ago--four years, i believe? they appeared, were hailed as the greatest thing since footie pajamas especially since you could wear them outside which you can't do with footie pajamas (IN THEORY--personally i think tracksuits are just as inappropriate as footie pajamas for grocery shopping/class-attending/barefoot-gas-station-steppin'). and then, as soon as everyone with a moticum (sp??) of taste/sense/vogue subscription realized that they were horrid trashy rags you should only use to dry yourself with if they were still in towel form, and that they make everyone look like overstuffed awkward candy-colored teddy bears, they went out of style. except...their horrid octupus tentacles of popularity reached horrifyingly far. i see them on socal girl clones all over the westside. there was a whole rack of them at a cool little shop where i recently got a very fabulous diesel jacket. i almost didn't go into the store, just because i saw that rack of shaggy sweatsuit horrors and thought there couldn't be anything viable in the whole store. thank god i conquered my fear of The Juicy and had the delightful opportunity to empty my wallet for a nipped-waist confection of black twill delight.
anyway anyway anyway I'M JUST SAYING that not only have the westside clones not relinquished the fuzzy yet, but neither have the supposedly stylish college girls at my school of fashion design! no joke i'm so serious! the same chicks who totter around on 4-inch stilettos lugging 80-pound bags full of patterns and stuff--in the name of fashion--suddenly decide that comfort is worth swathing themselves in terry? i hope this lapse in judgement is being duly noted and marked on their PERMANENT RECORD. especiallly if, like the girl next to me in class the other day, they're decked out not only in head-to-toe track, but also have thrown in the ultimate hideous concession to comfort, UGGS. AND THEN ARE HEARD TO CLAIM "I'M SOOOO ADDICTED TO UGGS." oh my god. oh my god. it's 2006, it's 2006, it's 2006.
> r r <
anyway. the point. WHAT IS WITH THE VELOUR TRACKSUITS? they first appeared in this fair city of los angeles, cradling countless pairs of silicone and labeling countless stairmastered booties with "juicy." side note: who wants their ass to be juicy? wouldn't "firm" or "toned" or perhaps "spankable" be more desirable as an adjective? they appeared quite a while ago--four years, i believe? they appeared, were hailed as the greatest thing since footie pajamas especially since you could wear them outside which you can't do with footie pajamas (IN THEORY--personally i think tracksuits are just as inappropriate as footie pajamas for grocery shopping/class-attending/barefoot-gas-station-steppin'). and then, as soon as everyone with a moticum (sp??) of taste/sense/vogue subscription realized that they were horrid trashy rags you should only use to dry yourself with if they were still in towel form, and that they make everyone look like overstuffed awkward candy-colored teddy bears, they went out of style. except...their horrid octupus tentacles of popularity reached horrifyingly far. i see them on socal girl clones all over the westside. there was a whole rack of them at a cool little shop where i recently got a very fabulous diesel jacket. i almost didn't go into the store, just because i saw that rack of shaggy sweatsuit horrors and thought there couldn't be anything viable in the whole store. thank god i conquered my fear of The Juicy and had the delightful opportunity to empty my wallet for a nipped-waist confection of black twill delight.
anyway anyway anyway I'M JUST SAYING that not only have the westside clones not relinquished the fuzzy yet, but neither have the supposedly stylish college girls at my school of fashion design! no joke i'm so serious! the same chicks who totter around on 4-inch stilettos lugging 80-pound bags full of patterns and stuff--in the name of fashion--suddenly decide that comfort is worth swathing themselves in terry? i hope this lapse in judgement is being duly noted and marked on their PERMANENT RECORD. especiallly if, like the girl next to me in class the other day, they're decked out not only in head-to-toe track, but also have thrown in the ultimate hideous concession to comfort, UGGS. AND THEN ARE HEARD TO CLAIM "I'M SOOOO ADDICTED TO UGGS." oh my god. oh my god. it's 2006, it's 2006, it's 2006.
> r r <
Labels: Fashion
posted by 5%Celery at 10:13 PM
1 Comments:
I have some thoughts on this. 4 years ago I lived in NYC and was OUTRAGED by Uggs and by juicy terry suits. This was 4 full years ago. Seriously, to think that they are BOTH still around and that otherwise normal women would wear them in PUBLIC is very upsetting. I live on the westside, I attend classes, I would NEVER wear either of these things. We need to get this shit banned. It's an eyesore.
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