France Bans Child Beauty Pageants
The Senate in France voted to ban child beauty pageants for those under 16 on the grounds that they hypersexualize children.
Frankly, I’m surprised that child beauty pageants even exist in France. I’m imagining little girls trotting out in trim cardigans and pencil skirts – Hermes scarves and loose buns tied with equal hurried panache. A chic loafer perhaps?
Surely the French know nothing about how it’s really done. They must have zero clue about the spray tanning, the hair curling, the make-up, the faux teeth (those damn 6 years losing baby teeth? So unattractive), the bedazzled outfits, the thigh high boots and the booty-spanking dance routines. Surely they have no notion of what they are actually trying to ban.
Those French – Don’t they realize how much tender mother-daughter bonding they will be curtailing with this law? Don’t they understand that child beauty pageants are the fertile ground from which spring the most talented and sparkly flowers of our society? How are these children ever going to learn to apply false eyelashes if they don’t start at age 3?
And how about depriving your nation of the likes of Honey Boo Boo Child and moreover, her elegant maman.
If only the French had any clue.
Ask the SB: Furries
Q: I agree with you about Miley, but do you realize she’s not just “dancing” with teddy bears? If you watch her video and check out the attached pic from her Instagram, I’d say she has a thing for Furries. It’s a thing, you know. Do you know?
A: As a matter of fact, Chad, I DO happen to know about this thing you speak of. This furry fetish, this stuffed subculture, this plushy porn and here at SB we live by the motto: to each his own.
We’re all lit up by different things, and who am I to say that giant stuffed teddy bears aren’t sexy? They aren’t to me and I happen to suspect, they aren’t to Miley either. I think she’s just looking for new ways to be shocking and maybe (although this may be giving her too much credit) it’s a subversive nod and hump to her teeny bopper Hannah Montana image.
I do appreciate my readers keeping me “in the know,” so thank you for that, dearest.
Photo Credit: Miley Cyrus’ Instagram
Previously on SB: SB Loves Kissing Footballers
Previously on SB: Real Beauty
On No, Miley. Just. No.
There are few things on this good green earth more likely to cause the SB to lurch off her floaty raft and sprint, sputtering lake water and Rosé, to the nearest computer, than a performance like Cyrus’ at the VMAs.
This was actually physically painful for me to watch. My teeth hurt, my eyes hurt, my stomach hurt. It’s like someone handed her some notecards with the words: CLASSY, SUBTLE, TALENT and LADY printed on them and she opened her giant mouth and guffawed Y’all, Imma gonna do the OPPOSITE of all these here words at the VMA’s. I’m gonna show erryone Imma big girl now! before spitting in the corner, growling, rubbing the cards on her coochie and tossing them on her spit.
Sweet baby Jesus, it’s almost like she was raised by a man with a mullet.
Deep breaths. Since this blog is about casting sartorial lifelines as opposed to sticks and stones, however, I feel obligated to help this wayward, misguided girl. And also, I’m only human – as much as I hate to admit it, We Can’t Stop is a pretty good party jam. So here goes nothing.
Miley, honey, if you’re listening, please stop sticking your tongue out. It’s abnormally long and that’s seriously saying something considering the size of your mouth. Gene Simmons can pull it off. You can’t. It looks vulgar. In fact, maybe stop short of unhinging your jaw like a python when you want to open your mouth. Basically, tone down the mouth shenanigans.
I was among the few who applauded your foray into faux hawk-ville. And I was even fine with the peroxide blond. Somehow the shorter boyish hair works for you – you have nice cheek bones. But never put it into two little knots on the top of your head again. It makes you look like a hungry teddy bear. Oh, was that intentional? My bad. Maybe don’t dance with bears anymore.
Stop twerking. I know it’s your body and you can do what you want to, but twerking is for girls who can actually do it and do it well. You need speed, you need booty. Your too-slow skinny white girl twerking looks lascivious, unnatural and strained. And those poor people in your rear view mirror. I hope you had a proper wax.
Be aware of who’s around you. If Robin Thicke, the king of schmooove, looks vaguely uncomfortable and Drake is averting his eyes and Rihanna looks confused, maybe you’re doing it wrong.
And finally, if that foam finger was not your idea, then you need new people. ALL new people. Fire everyone you know and start fresh. If the foam finger was your idea, then I fear I may be too late. That was absurd and obscene and next time just ask yourself this simple question. Would Beyoncé simulate sex with a cheap sports souvenir? Oh my God.
That is all. It’s hotter than Hades where I live and I’ve broken a sweat trying to help you. I’m retreating to my floaty raft and hope that you’ll think long and hard about what I’ve said. I know you “can’t stop” and “won’t stop,” but honey, you SHOULD stop.
Previously on SB (and proof I’m no prude): Cover Up, Or Else
Previously on SB: Side Boob Do’s and Don’ts
Not a Fan: Overalls
Do you all know how hard it is to get out of a hammock, in heels, with a drink in your hand? It’s hard, I tell you. I lost my page, sloshed my bevvie and tangled my leg up in the ropes. But not for naught.
What could possibly be so alarming and emergent as to summon me out of my summer stupor? One (compound) word, sweet bitches: OVERALLS.
I’m going to keep this simple because we’re all intelligent, rational people who have (I assume) one or two functioning eyeballs.
Overalls are not cute, flattering, fetching, nostalgic, tomboyish OR easy to pee in.
They did not look good in the nineties and they certainly don’t look good now – not with heels, not with tennies, not with tanks or a pocket full of pennies. I would not like them here or there. I would not like them anywhere. Thank you Dr. Seuss.
And thank YOU for not shrouding your crotch and abdomen in warm air and denim unless you are actively planting soybeans.
Not a Fan: Fat Talk
Y’all know I’m not a big fan of women being overly critical of their bodies, even, as it seems people do, it’s just a way to bond with other women. According to this NYTimes article, 93 percent of college women engage in “fat talk”. Not surprising. We all do it.
I’d be tempted to say it would be fine if it actually made us feel better, but research shows that it doesn’t. One girl says these jeans make me look like a fat ass and her friend retorts at least you didn’t inhale a bag of Cheddar and Sour Cream flavored Ruffles last night like a post partum sow, and Ho! Shocker! they both end up feeling worse.
And it’s lazy – a verbal tick more than anything else.
Most insidious, however, is the fact that fat talk plays into the notion that confident women who are fine with their bodies can come off as arrogant. Tearing ourselves down to fit in and make others comfortable is just lame and does nothing to further the SB cause.
So stop it with the fat talk. And if you’re really serious about getting into shape, consider a hardcore prancercize regimen. Trust me, it’ll rock your world.
Cover Up, Or Else . . .
CBS’ Standards and Practice Committee has sent a “wardrobe advisory” to all the Grammy Awards attendees basically banning butt cracks, underboob, bare sides, sheer fabric and “female breast nipples”. Oh, and also the “puffy bare skin” of the genital region. WHAT is that?
Strange syntax aside, I think this is puritanical and lame. It’s the GRAMMYS!!!
I know I rail against our over-sexualized society where girls are getting the message that looks and sex are all that matter, but I don’t think the answer is to sartorially censor our artists and outliers. We just need to be throwing more love and attention to the brainy and the brave, so the whole panoply of self expression is on display.
If music people aren’t allowed to do it, who is left to push the boundaries of fashion and good taste, to toe the line of propriety and social mores, to challenge our understanding of sexuality, gender, art and swagger?
This smacks of nuns with rulers measuring the lengths of kilts and I don’t like it one bit.
Which is not to say that I won’t be watching in my sheer butt crack, underboob, female breast nipple revealing ensemble. You know, out of solidarity.
As always, I’ll be live-tweeting @specbitch. Grab your vino blanco and join in the fun.
Photo credit: Kevin Winter/Getty Images
Not a Fan: Cocktail Straws
I know it’s an odd thing to be peevish about, but hang with me.
Picture this: You’ve procured your cocktail from the bar, left a tip and shimmied out onto the dance floor. Your favorite song comes on and you reflexively lift your drink up to salute the dj, your pals, the night and the gods of frolicking. Only the straw in your drink gets snagged in your friend’s hair or worse yet, her cornea, or worse yet, your cornea. If we don’t run with scissors, why do we dance with straws?
Not convinced? Picture this: You’ve procured your cocktail from the bar, left a tip and stepped away to drink your drink. You stand there holding the glass in one hand, the straws in the other and sip like a little baby. Your shoulders are hunched, your head is down. Granted you might accentuate your cheek bones for a second, but that is far outweighed by how sorority this looks. It’s hard to look confident when drinking through a straw, which is why men, largely, don’t.
Man up, ladies. Use the straws to muddle your citrus, give your drink a stir and then leave them at the bar. Cocktail straws manage to be both dangerous and lame – a rare combo, indeed.
Ask the SB: Spectacular Bitch or Crazy Bitch?
Q: Dearest SB,
I work with a woman who, for me, vacillates between SB and Crazy B. She’s fun, outgoing, not afraid to wear the highest of high heels in the most ridiculous situations and goes martini for martini with the boys.
However, sometimes her constant use of the word “Benzie” when referring to her car and demeaning anything she deems beneath makes me want to call my cousin Micky “Bag of Donuts” Salerno from Chicago. Thoughts?
Also, might I add, your regular stream of commentary on twitter and this site is delightful.
A: Kev, this is an excellent question and a good time to remind ourselves of this rule: high heels and a high tolerance do not an SB make.
We try to refrain from bashing other women here on SB, but we all have our limits and mine, it turns out, falls way short of the term “Benzie.”
Had she crept out to her garage in the middle of the night after having bought the car with her hard earned money and curled up on the hood in her bathrobe and whispered I love you Benzie, then I might be able to forgive her. But throwing the term around outside the privacy of her own garage, in front of witnesses is unforgivable and evidence of deep insecurity – which is SO not the SB way.
I don’t know if she’s crazy, but she’s definitely clueless. Steer clear before she asks you to dog sit for her tiny purse dog named Prada.
Now let’s talk about your cousin Micky “Bag of Donuts.” Sounds like my kind of guy. Is he tall?
Photo credit: Studio Car Modification
Velvet Nail Polish
The last thing this world needs is velvet nail polish. That’s just grody.
Not a fan.
Pussy Riot Gets Two Years
Incredibly, or maybe not so incredibly, the three members of Pussy Riot were sentenced to two years each in a Russian prison camp for hooliganism motivated by religious hatred. Two of them have children, whom they haven’t seen since they were arrested this past spring.
This seems awfully harsh. Their display was more silly than anything, if you ask me. So some babushkas got a little flustered during their morning prayers. Two years?
Stay strong, ladies.
Via Dangerous Minds
Worst Ad Ever?
Oh, I get it. Live Young! Evian is supposed to bring out the baby in you. I get it, but I hate it.
And I’m not just saying this because plastic water bottles make me ornery.
When I see a woman drinking out of a disposable plastic water bottle, I think: clueless, wasteful, spoiled, clueless. WAY down on my list I may think: or perhaps she was just carjacked and her reusable water bottle was in her cup holder and she has to take her lifesaving medicine asap which, luckily, happens to be in her pocket and not her purse which is half way to the state line with the jacked car, and she is feeling too weak and frazzled to find a drinking fountain, and she looks a little ashamed, so I’ll give her a pass.
We don’t like to be too judgy on SB, but disposable plastic water bottles drive us mad.
Putting all of that aside, this is probably the worst print campaign I’ve seen. It manages to be creepy and cheesy at the same time. Lame. Lame. Lame. And shame on Sharapova (and Aniston for that matter) for endorsing water in plastic bottles. This is not the 90′s, people. LAME. Why not team up with Sigg, or Nalgene or Klean Kanteen?
If anyone ever came asking, that’s what I’d do.
Not a fan.
Free Pussy Riot
Photo credit: Anna Artemeva/AFP/Getty Images
Russian female punk band, Pussy Riot, is being detained for a protest performance they busted out in Moscow’s cathedral this past February. The charges are hooliganism motivated by religious hatred, but really they were protesting against Putin and making a statement about the separation of church and state. They just happened to do it in brightly colored ski masks and mini dresses on the altar of Moscow’s Christ the Savior Cathedral.
The three women have been in jail for five months and the trial has been a joke, complete with a disinterested judge and a savage Rottweiler, who strangely, gets to hang out in the courtroom frothing and snarling. There are allegations that the girls are being deprived of food and proper sleep, and other musicians, including Pete Townsend, Anthony Kiedis, Sting, Patty Smith and Alex Kapranos have come out in support of the group, demanding their freedom. They face a possible seven year sentence and a decision is expected this week!
Egads! What a nail biter!
Stay strong girls. And Putin, don’t be an asshole. Free Pussy Riot.
Photo credit: RIA Novosti Andrey Stenin
High-Waisted Swim Suits: Yay or Nay?
The fact that I’m only getting around to writing about this trend in August means I have spent all summer trying with all my might to understand, embrace and enjoy this look.
While there is much to like about this look in theory, I have yet to see anyone actually look good in a high-waisted suit and it’s confounding to me.
On the plus side:
1. I like the idea of a retro glammy swim suit.
2. I like the idea of a little coverage for girls who may want a two-piece but have a little extra tummy love.
3. I like the idea that these bottoms won’t go flying off when you dive off the dock.
4. I like the fact that you don’t have to wax to within an inch of your life in this.
5. I like the fact that these suits pretty much declare to all the boys: I don’t care what you think.
6. I like the idea of being able to share swimsuits with my grandma.
On the minus side:
1. Ke$ha, Taylor Swift, Florence Welch, and Katy Perry all look kind of eeesh in their high-waisted suits and, with the exception of Ke$ha, they all have quite nice healthy figures.
2. Dita Von Teese could probably pull off a high-waisted suit, but to my knowledge she eschews water and, in fact, does not go outside when it’s daylight.
3. If you wouldn’t wear underwear this big, why would you wear bikini bottoms this big?
4. It’s not so much that the waist looks high, but the crotch looks low. Is low crotch ever a good look when you’re frolicking in the surf?
5. From behind, these suits make the bum look like a vast and endless savanna of lycra.
6. Belly button suffocation.
7. Oh ya, and low crotch. Again. Bad.
That’s 5 to 7, with high-waisted being the clear loser.
Not a fan.
Oh, no he didn’t!
Apparently, my (former) secret fantasy boyfriend, Joseph Gordon-Leavitt, was trying to give Emily Blunt a complement at Comic-Con this weekend and ended up saying something inane like “pretty girls aren’t usually funny.”
Maybe it was taken out of context.
Maybe he has a different definition of ‘pretty’ than I do.
Maybe he has a different definition of ‘funny’ than I do.
Maybe he’s just a clueless shit head.
Not a Fan: Telling Women Tennis Players to Hush
The Women’s Tennis Association announced that they are working with the Grand Slam tournaments and the International Tennis Federation to do something about the grunting and screaming in women’s tennis.
According to the WTA, “some fans find it bothersome.”
Here’s a thought: Stay home and watch the game on mute if you don’t like the sound of elite women athletes exerting themselves.
No one does this on purpose. And no one is unaware that they do this. It is simply that in the moment, when the stakes and level of play are that high, these athletes have more to worry about than how they sound to the guy sitting in row 19.
The WTA is developing a device that will help umpires determine when a shriek is too loud. And then what? Point to the other player?
This is insane. And insulting.
No. No. No. No. No.
Katy Perry is not the one to blame for this. Twenty seven year old pop stars are supposed to have cupcake boobs. Spectacular Girls are most definitely not.
Shackle Shoes? WTF?
Addidas has pulled these Jeremy Scott designed shoes from the shelves due to the tornado of outrage they stirred up after they debuted on Facebook on Monday.
Whether or not they were intended to evoke enslavement is rather beside the point, since they clearly do.
I just don’t understand how this design could have gotten through the layers of sign-offs necessary to make them a reality. How many people had to look at these and NOT notice what is so obvious to everyone else?
Side Boob Do’s and Don’ts, but Mostly Don’ts
My research for this post has convinced me that side boob is ubiquitous and ninety percent of the time, it is executed poorly. Why, you might wonder, even try this at all? My answer for the general population would be don’t. But to my smart, capable, fashion savvy and self-aware SB readers, I would say read on.
This look is interesting because it’s unexpected. The side of the breast, rib cage and arm pit is a delicate, vulnerable and pretty spot on a woman. It’s also rarely seen (or used to be, anyway) – because it’s usually covered by clothes and also our arms. Done correctly, a little side boob can be quite fetching.
Done right, it is cleavage’s brainy, sexy, infinitely more interesting cousin.
Done wrong, it is cleavage’s nasty ho of a cousin.
Let’s move on, shall we?
Rule number 1: Do not attempt side boob if you have giant faux breasts. It’s vulgar. Period. This is a look best left to our flat-chested sisters. The larger the breast, the greater the degree of difficulty.
Rule number 2: Do not attempt side boob with a loose and flowy top. The point is a fleeting peek, not a white knuckled, hair-raising, suspenseful is it going to swing out? evening for the people around you. I don’t care how much fashion tape you have working for you – people should be admiring you, not waiting with baited breath for one of your girls to go rogue. Also, fashion tape cannot be trusted in a full-on dancing situation. I cannot bear Anne Hathaway in this dress. Pendulous. Dangerous.
Rule number 3: Do not attempt side boob if the rest of you exudes so much as a whiff of skankiness. Stringy hair, ratty jeans, bare feet and bad posture do not mix well with side boob. Miley and Lilo are breaking rules 2 and 3 in one fell swoop. Go figure. And the Guess model in the middle is just grody.
Rule number 4: Do not attempt side boob if there is any danger at all of pancaking. If more than a finger’s width of your breast is in contact with your rib cage, you should be seeking a supportive bra, not side boob. I couldn’t bring myself to make a photo-shop collage of this phenomenon, so just trust me on this one.
These ladies are showing us side boob done the right way, but even they are walking a tightrope.
Gwyneth might be in danger of breaking Rule 2 if she doesn’t keep her posture in check. Giselle is almost too ampled-bosomed for this look, but she is adhering to Rules 2, 3 and 4 with such alacrity and the dress fits her so beautifully, that I must give her a pass. Zoey is perfection and illustrative of one of the greatest ironies in fashion: there is no boob in side boob.
Oh, Tom. Ewww.
I don’t like Tom Cruise on a good day, so imagine my disgust when I stumbled upon this W photo shoot featuring our fave Scientologist playing the big bad rockstar. You’ve GOT to check it out. The cowboy hat and abs alone make me want to stab the magazine. And I LOVE magazines.
He looks preposterous at best – revolting at worst. I know he’s playing an aging rocker named Stacee Jaxx in the upcoming Rock of Ages, but unless this is one giant parody, I’m not buying it at all. And apparently, it’s not a parody. I must admit, however, that the movie looks stupidly fun.
Still, lame. Gross. Not a fan.
Legs Astride, Arms Akimbo Part 2
Ever since I read that study about the power of taking up more space, I can’t help noticing that American women are suffering from an epidemic of arms crossed over chest.
It’s as if we’re all stuck in middle school, enduring the constraints of our itchy new training bras and trying to evade the pervy gaze of be-pimpled Chucky Sneed.
It not only looks bad, it is bad. Standing like this rounds the shoulders, contracts the pecs and abs and stretches out the back muscles – the ones that help us stand up straight. It’s the bad posture equivalent of hunching over a computer all day.
Worse yet, standing with crossed arms makes you seem uptight, defensive, meek. Who wants that?
Listen up ladies – arms down, chin up, chest out. And all those Chucky Sneeds can take a good long look and then go straight to hell.
Not a Fan: Dolce and Gabbana Pasta Earrings
I like whimsy and pasta as much as the next girl, but I just can’t get behind these bow tie pasta danglers made out of resin.
They retail for $490.00, but I know a local pre-school where I could get something similar for free.
Not a fan.
Not a Fan: Missoni for Converse
Call me an old curmudgeon, but when I saw that Missoni and Converse were teaming up for a 2012 line of Chuck Taylors, I scoffed, then I tssked, then I went outside and yelled at some kids to get off my lawn.
Just because I like chocolate and just because I like peanut butter, doesn’t mean I like them together. Oh, wait. Bad example.
Just because I like Missoni and just because I like Converse, doesn’t mean I like them together.
I like my Chucks low top, black and reeking of spilt beer. To me, a luxury take on a lowbrow brand seems totally contrived.
Two hundred bucks for Chucks? Honey, please.
SB is Speechless re: Bridal Feeding Tubes
I try not to get all judgy here on SB, but when I saw the story in the Sunday NY Times about the extreme measures being taken by dieting brides-to-be, I got a little judgy.
Everyone wants a quick fix for their fat ass, and now it seems that for a cool $1,500 you can get a feeding tube put in your nose for ten days.
I can’t even begin to enumerate the number of things wrong with this scenario, not least of which is the fact that a medical intervention usually reserved for sick people – people who would likely give anything for an appetite or the ability to eat on their own, is being used by vain and lazy women to lose weight for their wedding days.
I know. Judgy. Can’t help it.
Flatforms – Yay or Nay?
I’m not quite sure the new flatform shoe is working for me. This shoe might be anathema to our generously-footed sisters – yours truly included. Talk about clodhoppers. A size 10 could keep a family of five afloat on the high seas for weeks.
On the other hand, I see the appeal of the lift with this season’s palazzo pant and maybe even my giant baggy homegirl jeans. Certain pants require a longer leg than nature provides and just like an orthopedic elevator shoe, these pups are here to help.
Tempting. Very tempting.
Message for the MPD of the District of Columbia
Eeek! George Clooney was arrested outside of the Sudanese Embassy in Washington for protesting Sudan’s blockage of food and aid to its starving citizenry.
Here’s a message for the D.C. Police from the SB:
1. Watch the face!
2. What’s with those cheap plastic cable ties? Would it have killed you to use a proper pair of handcuffs on George?
Photo credit: Win Mcnamee/Getty Images
Not a Fan: The Wet-Look
Vogue calls the wet-look one of Spring/Summer 2012′s biggest beauty trends, but some trends aren’t meant to trickle down from the catwalk.
Sure, if you’re a model, a wet bun might look chic. But the rest of us would just look un-done.
I’ll take this as permission to continue doing what I already do, which is to eschew the hairdryer in favor of time and air. Actually putting product into dry hair to make it look wet, however, is just plain whack.
And God forbid someone try the wet look with the pajama trend! Sister would be pelted with muffins and Sunday papers at every turn. Not a fan.
The Oscars: Best Dresses of All Times?
Anyone else feeling oh, so frothy for the Oscars this Sunday night? If you have a moment, take a look at this slide show of the best Oscar dresses of all time from The Huffington Post.
I agree with their choices for the most part, except the first dress in the slide show is that horrifying pink dress that Gwyneth wore for her Shakespeare in Love shenanigans. I hate that dress. I HATE that dress. My prom dress was that color. Bluh! Banish the memories! Go by it fast and six slides in you’ll see the shimmery Calvin Klein she wore last year, which I totally love and adore.
And I worship the canary yellow Vera Wang that Michelle Williams wore for Brokeback Mountain times. And the chartreuse green John Galliano that Nicole Kidman busted out in 1997 was a game changer – I hate that phrase, but it’s true. And Penelope in those feathers is to DIE for.
Now I’m getting myself all wound up in a tizzy, but just one more!
I simply could not resist this pic of Farrah in her sexy sparkler from 1978. Now that’s a dress.
Ask the SB: Miss Me Jeans
Q: I am constantly seeing women in their 20s and late 30s and sometimes even 40s wearing MISS ME jeans i.e. heavily studded back pockets with obnoxious white threading. Is this trend acceptable, ever? If so, when is an appropriate occasion to wear them? I just don’t get it.
Oh btw, welcome. I’ve long awaited your arrival *bowing*.
a: Krisella, dear, thanks for the warm welcome. I’m tickled to have friends in Texas. You girls don’t mess around when it comes to clothes, hair and makeup. Respect.
I had never heard of Miss Me jeans, but a quick perusal of their website confirmed that I have indeed seen them and that I am most definitively not a fan.
Judging by the dizzying array of styles of bejeweled and bespangled pockets and heavy-duty stitching, I’m thinking they must have an army of tanned, gum chewing, flat-ironed, hair-sprayed women sketching as fast as their giant nails will allow them. The variations on the same bad jean are stunning.
As far as I’m concerned, the only appropriate time to wear these would be if you were on Real Housewives of Wherever and you went on a horseback riding extravaganza where you got into a huge fight with another Housewife because she was a flirting with the buckaroo that you had your eye on, so you sought revenge by edging her horse off the trail, which made her seek revenge by poking a twig up your horse’s bum, which caused it to spook and buck you into a muddy creek bed, which in turn made her horse spook and buck her into a bramble bush.
Miss Me jeans would be good for that. Otherwise, avoid at all costs.
Ask the SB: Athletic Wear
Q: Can you do a snippet on all the girls like me who think wearing athletic apparel around all the time is ok? I know it’s not, but I just can’t change it.
A: Sure you can change it, M. First you peel those black yoga pants off one leg, then the other . . . The problem is that the Lululemonification of America has made it too easy to pretend work out clothes are real clothes. I admit it – Lulu’s stuff is totally cute. But make no mistake: no matter what kind of après yoga look they’re trying to hustle, they are still yoga clothes.
I see armies of women going about their daily lives in yoga pants and zip-up hoodies and I can only pray that I’m seeing them before their work outs, not after - or worse yet, with no actual plans to exercise on the horizon. It’s a common misconception that wearing athletic clothes will make you feel like doing something athletic.
Allow me to offer some helpful tips as a guide, should you decide to wean yourself of your stretchies.
You should NOT be in athletic wear:
1. more than 2 hours before or 10 minutes after your work out.
2. in any eating establishment with waitrons.
3. in the market if you need to buy more than 4 items.
4. to see any kind of a doctor – dentist included.
5. in an airport or on an airplane.
6. when purchasing other athletic clothes, or any clothes for that matter.
7. when visiting a salon for any service whatsoever.
8. at a movie theater.
9. in a school, library, book store or other place of learning.
Perhaps it’s easier to simply enumerate when it is appropriate to wear athletic clothes:
1. when working out.
2. when walking the dog.
3. when pumping gas if the gauge was on Empty.
Now I’ve got this stuck in my head. Enjoy.
Ask the SB: So Over Amazing
Q: What’s your position on overused fashion descriptives? If I hear the word “amazing” used one more time to describe a dress, a shoe, or plate of pasta, I think I’ll scream. There are thousands of other adjectives to choose from. Surely some of those would do the job.
A: I so very much appreciate your ornery ways, Beverly, and I think you should scream the next time you feel like it.
I agree with you. We live in a time of gross hyperbole and profound laziness which is why there are so many amazing salads out there.
I think you and I should start a two woman crusade to snuff out “amazing” and promote the use of “dynamite” in its stead. It’s a better word and it’s high time for a change.
What d’ya say?
Not a Fan: Pajama Dressing
Vogue recently gave the A – O.K. to the pajama dressing trend, but I’m not buying it. Not one bit. Who do we think we are, Julian Schnabel? Hugh Hefner?
I’m all for comfortable, devil-may-care slouchiness in the right setting, but this is taking it too far. The only outfit in Vogue’s slideshow that I accept features a pajama top that is so fitted, it doesn’t look like a pajama top at all. Everything else looks like, well, pajamas.
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