Sunday, January 31, 2010
I'm in Your Face but Don't Touch My Beard
Let me just start off by sayin’ I’m a bit biased and old school: Like a little black dress, a red fire hydrant is a classic. And it’s always best to start with the tried and true…then go from there.
Well, “going from there” seems to challenge a lot of fashion-forward chicklets, so my purpose here is to throw my two-paws in and take a bite outta ugly. And there’s a shit load of it out there. Damn!
This Beckham broad thinks she’s hot shit…and for good reason. Not some over-the-top ‘costume’ but a nice dress. For all you fashionsitas that havta put too much garlic in the sauce because you think jacked up is juicier, just chill with a good bottle of Merlot and strip off the junk. This girl’s got the ‘tude to go with the look. OK, I concede. She’s probably a size triple zero. Still, give her the props. Bet she’d piss herself if she knew a dog was comparin’ her to a fine-looking fire plug.
Me and the Boss don’t pull no punches, as you can tell. If he sleeps in and doesn’t leave a bowl out for me, I’m on his chest and in his face – no matter the hour. If he catches me snoozin’ in his favorite chair, I know to get the hell out. So I’m throwin’ my eighteen pounds at this shit I see out there on the web, even if I’m just a dog. He’s typin’; I’m cussin’.
First, just because one is pretty, that doesn’t mean he should get a pass on ugly clothes or combos. Surely, the fashion police are comin’… and right quick at that [The Shawshank Redemption]. My beat up doghouse is better looking than some of these bloggin’ wanna-bees the Boss wakes me up to check out.
Secondly, even if it’s edgy, there’s got to be some subtlety – like a breeze on a lazy, August afternoon laced with three-day old roadkill driftin’ in from a couple of miles away. You can’t really tell whether it’s an armadillo or a possum, but it’s fine nonetheless. Instead, some fashion is more like that in-your-face bitch in heat two blocks over. Shoutin’ all about sex and sayin’ nothin’ ‘bout the women wear ‘em. Well, not exactly. Some clothes shout stupid as much as they insist on being pretentious.
Finally, you don’t have to show all your hot fabrics in each and every piece. The Boss and his Singer could do some sweet shit with just about any fabric. Me, I’m still waitin’ for someone to do something with plaids that isn’t trailer-trash pitiful.