Posts tagged fashion
A loyal reader asked me to weigh in on Old Navy’s new early-90’s-throw-back commercial featuring the cast of Blossom.
Now, I don’t know ‘bout the future, that’s anybody’s guess. But I do know a better reason for getting aaaaall depressed: living inside of the Old Navy Funnovation Center.
Designed by renown architect Buckminster Pullover, this large dome has housed the cast of Blossom since 1993. (With a brief leave of absence for Joey Lawrence to do Dancing with the Stars and set America’s hearts on fire with that rumba.)
Here we see teen sensation Mayim Bialik (pronounced how it looks: like the sound of a lazer cutting through two-ply sheet metal - mmmaaaaaaaaayimbiiiiiiiiiiialik) as Cheif Floral Officer (CFO). This is consistent with her bossy, yet naive, ways of adolescence - but she does seem to have mellowed out and/or had her spirit broken in the process. Laboring in the fields (because he didn’t go to college on the show) is Joey, who “WHOA!”s his said with the saddest eyes imaginable. If you look closely, he blinks twice indicating he needs rescue. We can imagine that Blossom’s brother, Tony, drives the ambulance from seasons one through three should any of the mechanical bees go haywire.
But what we’re all thinking the same thing: Where is Six?
“Nowhere to be seen!” you cry. Ah, but isn’t she? Wouldn’t it make sense for Six, of all the characters, to aesthetically align with Old Navy? “She could run Old Navy!” you now cry, moments later. And if she did, if she were the overlord of Old Navy what would she do:
- Build a large prison where her once friend/master Blossom would be trapped in a fanciful job she’d always wanted.
- Build that prison in the shape of a large flower adorning the metaphorical hat that is the Old Navy Funnovation center.
- Have Joey, who she always had the hots for, work sleeveless in that prison.
But that’s far-fetched, isn’t it? Is it?
In my opinionation, it is not.
Because I can’t help but note the shape of the windows in the commercial. They are…
SIX-SIDED.
Whoa.
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The purchase of Zara’s 5th Avenue store in Manhattan cost more than the Louisiana Purchase of 1803, even after being adjusted for inflation. (The Economist)
I’m convinced that Project Runway’s Joshua McKinley is really just Ben Affleck doing a borderline offensive character study of a gay man.
(via myLifetime.com)
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Forget climate change, does Rick Perry believe in wardrobe change?
How can I trust the judgment of a man who pairs that tie with that shirt.
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It takes a true wannabe femme-hipster to drool over these necklaces.
L: True Birds; R: Kate Spade
You guys, Leticia is Tumblring. This is big news. Follow her.
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APC Jeans: Intimidating True Religion
My friend made me purchase APC jeans four years anon by preying upon my sexual insecurity and midwestern desire to disguise my inbred physical shame. (“God invented clothes for a reason.”)
I had never shopped at an establishment with an ethos before. Well, excluding Cracker Barrel. But the surly staff—in my memory it is naught but a series of red-heads of milky-white skin and washed-out color palettes—was quick to proselytize and show me the error of my ways.
Salesperson: “What size?”
Me: “28.” [I have the body-mass index of an eight-year old… girl… in Somalia.]
Salesperson. “Here’s a 26.” 26? Are such pants even manufactured outside of the American Girl Doll Factory? I had no idea.
Naturally, these pants were of a silhouette known as “The Riddler” by the lay-person. I couldn’t move or bend. My belongings no longer fit in my pockets. In fact, the pockets seemed so flesh with the pant that they were like ear lobes healing themselves after piercing. I bruised my legs, my hips, even my buttocks… or lack thereof.
I never washed those pants because I followed the salesperson’s instructions like it was a fashion ghaad, someday to be surrounded by 70 virgin-cotton tees. I wore them everyday. At one point, they were the only pants I owned. They degraded to the level of obscenity—leading to an unbeknownst exposure at a summer watering hole.
I can no longer afford a new pair. And, I am devastated.
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