Fashion Week is once again underway in New York, and designers — never ones to resist a nostalgic misfire — are deep in their 1970s phase. The Spring 2005 collections are full of synthetic slink: fabrics that cling, colors that offend, and silhouettes best left to Studio 54.
I’m not particularly fashionable. But I do have a sixth sense for when something looks bad. And in the age of mass-market fashion trickle-down, being able to identify a ridiculous trend is its own form of survival. I may not be stylish, but at least I’m not a lemming in a polyester jumpsuit.
Boston isn’t a fashion capital, but you’d be surprised how many women here try to translate Vogue spreads into sidewalk look. And with deepest respect to everyone just trying to get dressed in the morning: some trends need to be buried. Deeply. Preferably with a stake.
1. Pink.
Pink has finally trickled down to the demographic least suited for it: the old, the overworked, and the overstimulated. There are two groups who can reliably pull off pink: girls between the ages of one and eight, and blondes. The rest of you are gambling. The other day on the T, I saw a Hispanic woman — slim, well-groomed, clearly stylish — wearing a candy-pink sateen pleated A-line skirt. She was probably in her late forties. It was… jarring.
2. The Scarf Belt.
Every time I see someone thread a scarf through her belt loops, I flash to a QVC presenter raving about “versatility!” and “feminine flair!” Like she’s going to tie it around her waist and her handbag and maybe later her Yorkie. A scarf belt is not an accessory, it’s a warning sign. I see it and wonder how often she re-ties it after washing her hands in a public bathroom.
3. Butt Words.
There is perhaps no fashion trend more revealing than Greek letters stitched across the rear of a pair of sweatpants. I don’t need to explain it. The joke writes itself. Or rather, embroiders itself in varsity font across someone’s backside.
4. Dysfunctional Shoes.
Boston is a walking city. Boston is also a minefield of cracked sidewalks, cobblestones, and crosswalks that dare you to make it in one piece. So when I see someone navigating downtown in spike heels with no ankle support, I feel a complicated mix of pity, rage, and orthopedic concern. If you’re being chauffeured to a party, fine… strut like you mean it. But if you’re actually walking more than 50 feet, know this: unless you are a gazelle in a past life, you look one misstep away from a slow-motion sidewalk collapse.
5. Flip Flops.
Wikipedia calls flip-flops “a kind of flat, backless sandal… held on the foot by a V-shaped strap.” Which sounds fine if you’re at the beach. Not, say, on a subway platform in a city with 400-year-old rat burrows and questionable liquid seeping from street corners. Flip flops are for sand. Not sewage.
