Monday, March 26, 2012

Unseasonable styles cause riots

March heat wave “a real panty peeler,” says Ma Nature

1. You can spot a trendslut by the oodles of flesh s/he exposes as soon as it hits above 10 degrees. Step out of a cold, lonely, Winter into a Spring of sizzling desperation, starring short shorts paired with army boots, flip flops and peacoats, and scarves doubling as shawls after sundown.

2. Baseball hats with the ‘stickers of authenticity’ left on them is akin to me leaving the labels on my new Pinup Couture dress. If it’s some kind of status symbol to show the world I’m a size M, I’ll strut the fuck out of it on the runways of my mind. And you, kid, will limp behind me, rocking the ‘Not-A-Knockoff!’ urban accessorreezz line.*

3. *The Design Snob regrets that hoodies will NOT be part of Not-A-Knockoff’s Spring collection. It’s recently come to My attention, care of TV genius Geraldo Rivera, that only hooligans wear hoodies.

4. Here’s a recipe for shenanigans: St. Paddy’s Day + Saturday night + Students + London, Ont. + Vodka Red Bulls + the fair-skinned, dark-haired, blue-eyed, beauty in a teeny tanktop, kilt, and knee socks who snapped the minds of 1000 virgin boys by belting Sunday Bloody Sunday at karaoke earlier that night.

5. We’re in Dora Keogh on the Danforth. Inspired by the New Orleans funk music, a man frantically, yet artfully, dance-humps unsuspecting patrons and openly enjoys a quickie with my knee. But he’s not my favourite. No, that prize goes to the plump exhibitionista who is now dancing on the bar. The view up her dress would have thrilled the otherwise unflappable Irish bartenders were it not for the fact that she splattered all three of them when she fell down from there.

6. A girl wearing a royal blue mircoskirt should not also sport an oatmeal granny sweater in the hope that the sweater will cover the portion of ass left exposed by the skirt. Two extreme wrongs NEVER make a right. Oops, and THEN – said girl should avoid dropping her iphone on the Dundas West bus platform (her hands were greasy due to just-purchased midnight McDonald’s) and bend alllll the way over to pick it up while I’m in the middle of writing about that very ass.

7. Another observation on the platform: If the back pockets of your jeans are so ripped that your used car salesman business cards are spilling outta there, it’s time for a career AND fashion makeover!

8. Then again, don’t be the weirdo blogger staring at everyone’s ass and manically scribbling in a Moleskine journal. Like, get off the adrenochrome, Hunter S.!

9. On the #40 bus: Please also avoid being a 45-year old hippie/MDMA fiend/reclaimed subway cushion vendor from the Junction who presumes he’s manufactured enough kookiness to wear a fanny pack in front of me.

10. Now at home: It’s probably disrespectful to the neighbours to blast Dolly Parton and have a masturbatory fashion show involving one's mirror, John Fluevogs, and aforementioned Pinup Couture dress with labels still proudly dangling, dorkface!

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