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6 september 2002

Click here for official info on Return of the Girl Next Door.

off to see the wizard of ugly

Yeah, a few more photos like that make a mother proud...

Hi, Mom!

...anyway...

So my sister is IM-laughing at me tonight over my little shopping errand to stock up on smelly candles. Now that I've got this whole cable modem whingding, she's like, "you'll need those candles to hide the nerd smell." And for awhile, she may be right. The past couple of days have been spent doing backups, configuring a firewall, still wondering where the heck I can get some cord cozies, and subjecting myself to yet more blinking lights.

Oh, and I'm downloading lots and lots and lots of music. Fast. I'm sure the novelty of lightning-fast Internet access in my home will wear off. Really. I promise. Like, when I'm eighty. At that point, I can totally see myself as the leather-clad old lady lined up at the medical research lab to get a microchip implanted in my head. Tuned in 'til the end, baby.

Thou shalt age with grace and maximum radioactivity. Remember that.

So, yeah, I had to make a little jaunt to the smelly candle store for ye olde odeur d'ambiance. It's usually a quick trip, now that I've figured out where to park at that accursed mall so I don't get lost somewhere between Makeup Galore and More Ugly Shit to Wear. Tonight, I have to say that the mall was blessedly empty, filled mostly with people like me on specific errands.

Of course, the fewer people that are in the mall, the easier it is for me to see through the windows at the merchandise.

And may I be the first to warn you about the new fall fashion collection...BLECK!

From what I can tell...well, let me put it this way: do you remember the color of the Brady Bunch's furniture? Okay, those colors and patterns are really hot this year. David Partridge would wet himself over some of the butt-ugly shirts I saw during my brief stroll. I don't know if some decade is coming back, or some designer went off his medication, but y'all fashionable types are so going to be donating your new duds to Goodwill in about two months. Man, they're ugly.

The shirts were bad enough--because, you know, goldenrod is so flattering on everyone--but I'm about ready to write my congressperson over what they're calling "shoes" this season. Now, keep in mind that this is coming from someone who wears all clogs, all the time. But my friends have long been warned to slap me good the day that I show up in shoes that come to a point. Heel, toe--wherever. N o   p o i n t y.

You think I'm kidding. Last time I saw shoes this ugly they were sticking out from under a house. They'll get you, my pretty. And your little dog, too.

And you know, clothes are clothes. Eventually, you're going to regret everything you wore, anyway. That's just the way it is. I'm neither here nor there on harmless fads. You want to wear a bolero shirt and rhinestone-studded jeans, well then rock on. But something about women's shoes has raised my ire for years now.

Given enough time, shoes reshape our parts. Wear some of these ridiculous things for enough years, and watch your feet begin to take on new and exciting shapes. Bunions are the least of our problems. Have you ever noticed what your back does when you put on a pair of high heels? Slide on a pair and stand in front of a mirror sometime. Hel-lo, swayback! You mean, it's not perfectly natural to support all of my weight on the ball of my foot?

Oh, and I haven't even asked you to engage in the activity of walking in these dainty monsters. From what I could tell, fashionistas for the next two years have an approximately 35-degree-angle toe box. Even better, the heels--well, WHAT HEELS? They're, like, skinny or something. I swear, I saw high heels that were less than a centimeter wide. May as well walk on the edge of a ruler for all the support you'll get in those things.

It's not fair.

I don't go around saying that stuff isn't fair. I think that, most of the time, you make your own equality these days. But ladies, this isn't fair. It isn't fair that we should even have to consider stuffing our feet into these gangrene traps. Ugly is one thing, but unsafe is another entirely. Unless you've got a tightrope-walker's sense of balance, good luck walking downtown in the hot new looks of 2002.

The good news is this: most of the guys I know think that these shoes look stupid, too. Even scary, cause they're afraid like if you kicked them with the pointy part or something. (Guys are squeamish that way.) The good news, part two, is this: I did see one collection of footwear that made me downright giddy--classic sneakers. Remember the old Adidas, Nikes, and Pumas that we used to wear? They're calling them "old skool" these days. Whatever. They look swell to me, even nostalgic, even...well...

I think I might make an exception to the clogs. Maybe. Cause that's fair.