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So, my kid went in for dental surgery today. Nothing super-drastic, but since he's two he needed anesthesia. Of course I brought along something to read in the waiting room: the Persian epic Shahnameh (the Book of Kings), composed by the great poet Ferdowsi. Except I got up at 4:30 this morning, and the wife was going crazy with worry next to me. So instead we picked up a Glamour from the table and passed a happy forty-five minutes mocking the models together.
Who comes up with the crap that passes for fashion? About half those women had "tousled" hairdos that reminded me of There's Something About Mary. And half were got up in this bizarre mishmash of clothes that didn't go together at all, accented by equally unfortunate heaps of gold jewelry. With considerable overlap between the halves. One was wearing what looked like a bellhop's jacket over a skimpy tube top, with about three pounds of tacky bling. The combined effect was something like "crack whore dressed in random stuff she got from the donations box at the Beverly Hills homeless shelter." Except, according to the captions, these outfits were outrageously expensive, some of them totaling several thousand.
Does anybody happen to know what the point of all this is? The getups are spectacularly ugly--I assume gay fashion designers are to blame. They look too uncomfortable for women to inflict on their own sex, and men who find women attractive wouldn't go to such lengths to make them look ugly. And they're way too pricey for your average magazine reader to actually wear, even if she's sniffed enough glue to make them look good.
Anyway, we were interrupted by the dental surgeon, who came out to tell us the surgery went fine, and noticed the Shahnameh lying closed on my lap. He was Persian, so he was very pleased to see it, and very gracious about the fact that I'd been neglecting his culture's masterpiece in favor of bad-fashion smut. The End.
Who comes up with the crap that passes for fashion? About half those women had "tousled" hairdos that reminded me of There's Something About Mary. And half were got up in this bizarre mishmash of clothes that didn't go together at all, accented by equally unfortunate heaps of gold jewelry. With considerable overlap between the halves. One was wearing what looked like a bellhop's jacket over a skimpy tube top, with about three pounds of tacky bling. The combined effect was something like "crack whore dressed in random stuff she got from the donations box at the Beverly Hills homeless shelter." Except, according to the captions, these outfits were outrageously expensive, some of them totaling several thousand.
Does anybody happen to know what the point of all this is? The getups are spectacularly ugly--I assume gay fashion designers are to blame. They look too uncomfortable for women to inflict on their own sex, and men who find women attractive wouldn't go to such lengths to make them look ugly. And they're way too pricey for your average magazine reader to actually wear, even if she's sniffed enough glue to make them look good.
Anyway, we were interrupted by the dental surgeon, who came out to tell us the surgery went fine, and noticed the Shahnameh lying closed on my lap. He was Persian, so he was very pleased to see it, and very gracious about the fact that I'd been neglecting his culture's masterpiece in favor of bad-fashion smut. The End.
ACK!
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