MAC recently announced that the next spokesperson in their longstanding Viva Glam lip-color campaign is pop star, actress and sneaky donut licker Ariana Grande, and with that announcement came a portrait of Ms. Grande with a portrait of herself.
This photo was the decisive proof I needed to be convinced that some clothing is made for the express purpose of being worn by celebrities in photo shoots.
Don't get me wrong. I love granny panties as much as the next person who's 51% sure she's not getting laid tonight. But when I buy a skirt with a hem that hits mid-thigh, personally, I expect it to hide the aforementioned granny panties. Ariana's skirt is all, "I serve no practical attiring purpose." Not that it has to; she looks like a total babe in her ghost skirt. But really, though—how and where else is such a garment supposed to be worn by non-posing, non-performing, non-famous people?
The vast majority of haute couture designs are never worn off the runway, which is fine because the vast majority of people can't afford haute couture. That's why the term ready-to-wear is a thing in the fashion industry. It's clothing that's ready—and meant—to be worn, unlike haute couture, which is basically museum-quality art with a wide enough opening for a tall, thin human to get inside. And ready-to-wear is available at all different price points; Marc Jacobs is ready-to-wear, and Target's Merona brand is ready-to-wear.
But lately, I've been seeing garments that, while they are technically ready-to-wear, don't seem ready to be worn anywhere.
This isn't an attempt to police what people wear. Anyone can wear whatever they want, as far as I'm concerned, including the items below. That said, I can punch a hole through the sealed end of one of those long Subway bags and put my arm through it, but that doesn't make it a sleeve. It's still a plastic-and-tuna-scented bag with a hole in both ends.
This is an attempt to understand the real-life practicality of currently-available merchandise being presented as "clothing." And by practicality, I don't mean, Oh, I probably can't get away with this in a professional setting. I mean I'm not sure what occasion even exists on this terrestrial plane for these so-called garments. I'm not even sure how to put some of the following things on, and I'm worried someone might get injured in the act of wearing them.
Solace London Chrysa Crop Top
"Hey, how did Sarah break her nose?"
"Oh, she tripped on her shirt."
Perhaps the best thing about this top is the Drowning Pool reference in the first line of Nasty Gal's product description: "Let the bodies (and the train) hit the floor"—because that's exactly what's going to happen. Your body is going to hit the floor, face-first, when you inevitably trip over the narrow train that drapes over—and is perilously longer than—your left leg.
Lipsy Fringe Trim Belted Poncho
A poncho is basically a blanket you can stick your head through. It's arguably the loosest of all the subcategories in the sweater category. Ponchos are the perfect top layer for those days that you don't feel like wearing anything too body-conscious, but you also have the freedom to take it off and reveal whatever garment has been peeking out from underneath whenever you've lifted your arms.
Therefore, this poncho needs its poncho card revoked.
Belting a poncho completely defeats the roomy, free-flowing, Thanksgiving-gluttony-friendly purpose of said poncho. Who the hell has ever thought to themselves, Gosh, I wish someone would make a bodycon poncho? No one, that's who! Because it's a goddamn poncho!
And it's not like this is a poncho that simply has a belt over it—oh, no, no. The belt actually goes through slits in the knit, forcing you to commit to the hourglass poncho lifestyle lest you want to reveal four waist holes when the belt is removed.
Forever 21 Heathered Tie-Front Skirt
"Brrrrrr, I'm cold. I'm gonna untie my sweatshirt from around my waist and put it on."
"Oh no! I forgot! It's not a sweatshirt! It's just the sleeves of a sweatshirt inexplicably attached to my skirt and tied in front of my vagina!"
"Guess I'm gonna freeze to death."
Express Sequin Legging
I know what you're thinking: there's nothing intrinsically ridiculous about sequin pants. These are, from a distance, pretty darn cute. But unless you have a thigh gap, these are going to get messed up pretty quickly.
Even the highest-quality sequined garment—and this is not exactly the highest-quality sequined garment—is prone to losing its paillettes. That's why those garments typically come with a little plastic bag of, like, six replacement sequins, hanging from the same plastic barb as the price tag. But the friction of your legs rubbing together is the mortal enemy of those inner-thigh sequins, which will quickly un-sew themselves in droves—definitely a bigger drove than six replacement sequins can remedy.
ASOS Mesh Slip Co-ord
Guys, this is in the sleepwear section of ASOS. Not even the lingerie section—the sleepwear section.
I don't know about you, but when I'm looking to get comfortable before bed, my first choice—over old t-shirts, pajamas, or nudity—is a see-though polyester pencil skirt.
Not that this would have a practical application in waking life...
Nasty Gal Buckle It Down Pant
I don't know if Nasty Gal is trolling us or merely trying to kill us.
At first glance, you might think these pants have suspenders jauntily draped over them.
Not the case.
What you're looking at are more or less luggage-rack straps or maybe seatbelts hooked onto the back of otherwise normal-ish slacks. Unlike seatbelts, however, they won't save your life and, in fact, may play a role in ending it should you accidentally get strapped to your chair during a fire or some other emergency in which you need to flee.
Do any of you own—and, more impressively, actually wear—a hugely impractical and potentially dangerous item of clothing?