I Renounce Thee, Fashion Snarking

The more days I X off my metaphysical calendar, the more I realize that short of hurting people, I just really do not care one bit what anybody else does
Publish date:
May 25, 2012
snark, fashion, leggings, uggs

It's not draped, but it is jersey.

Part of being a blogger is occasionally shutting your eyes and thinking really hard about how you actually feel about a topic. There's usually a layer of knee-jerk reaction to get through and a chorus of other people's opinions screaming at you, but you have to concentrate on the tiny little voice inside you that knows how you feel about the latest sex study or Kim Kardashian's marriage or that sexist ad or your back fat.

And you have to do it in like, 5 minutes.

I'm not complaining. That's actually one of the gifts that Jane Pratt gives you -- the gift of your own voice. It's part of her magic -- almost every other editor in the whole world has a lot of rules and regulations for what you can say and how you can say it. The goal of most publications is to squelch excessive personality and voice. Which is why, after years of molding your voice to various publications, it's actually countertintuitively hard to just write like yourself.

(I know this is all very "inside baseball," but some of you guys have basically set up hobo camps inside our vaginas, so maybe you're interested.)

I'm mentioning all of this because the other day I wrote a tiny post on replacing Uggs as the synonym for horrible fashion and after I put it up, I felt really weird about it. That post is the worst thing I ever wrote, I kept thinking to myself. I briefly copywrote in the cloying voice of a fictional character known as "Girlawhirl," so trust me it isn't. And even if it was, well, they can't all be winners. My bills are paid, you know? I couldn't figure out why it was bothering me so damn much.

Until jerkstore11 said this:

Can I just snark on fashion snarking for a sec....?

Okay, thank you. I wear what I like. Trends come and go, and I'm often wary of embracing them, but really now--we are all going to die. It's nothing to get worked up about; have fun with your outfits and I'll do the same. Bury me in leggings and Uggs for all I care.

And then it hit me. Fashion snarking sucks! And that's what I really wished I had said, instead of trying to replace one kind of fashion snark with another.

I think Go Fug Yourself is as funny as the next girl, but when it comes right down to it, I actually don't care at all what anyone else wears. Not only that, I don't think there's any maligned fashion trend in this world that cannot be pulled off with the right amount of workin' it.

I mean, I mix prints, clash insane color combinations, and have a near-pathological collection of polka-dot dresses. It's downright weird. And yet I'm a Kate Moss-ian style icon who can barely escape the papparazzi.

Head-to-toe pink? Why not!

And furthermore, if a trend has become so ubiquitous as to attract haters, whether it's Uggs or Crocs or harem pants or maxi dresses or high-waisted pants, it's probably because it's comfortable and makes people feel good when they wear it.

Case in point: Leggings. Can I first of all just point out that busting out that old "Leggings are not pants" bon mot makes you sound about 1,000 years old? No, they're not pants, they're leggings, an item of clothing that Earth people in the 21st century often wear on the lower part of their bodies.

And while I'm not great fan of casual dressing, even I can see the appeal of moving around in the world without bifurcating your FUPA or having to unbutton your jeans in a restaurant.

But even if I never, ever planned to let a pair of leggings lovingly embrace my front booty, why should I care if you do?

So what, you're wearing leggings! Maybe they're kind of transperant and I can see your ass. I like seeing asses! Usually I have to look them up on the Internet, so this is a lot easier.

Your footwear doesn't fit my personal style aesthetic! Well, I guess I'll just be glad that it doesn't also shoot boiling acid into my eyes or something else that might actually affect my life.

The more days I X off my metaphysical calendar, the more I realize that short of hurting people, I just really do not care one bit what anybody else does. And trust me, the only thing more played than that outdated trend you're snarking on? Is snark itself. So 2008.