Godammit, I’m Mad!

Do you like looking at ridiculous menswear? Do you long to see low-rent pimps, a fat guy in a crazy Zoot Suit, or fake crocodile shoes in every color of the rainbow? Good, because this is the place.

Earlier today, I was very annoyed by a crazy bitch who’s been taunting me online. But then I realized that if I had to go around kicking the ass of every single person I’ve somehow pissed off, I’d have no time for anything else.

Even better, I came across these godforsaken boots at Neiman Marcus, and my life was once again filled with joy. Who would buy these monstrosities?!  Besides Cher and Pamela Anderson, I mean.

They are priced at $395, a small price to pay for all this grotesque ugliness! Just try deciding which pair is worse!

Yesterday, when I wasn’t busy with penises, I found this leather skirt that I can’t afford, but still covet. The pleated ruffles just kill me! What wouldn’t look great with this skirt?

So now I’m aware of Hartmann Nordenholz, who designed these amazing dresses. Do you love him or do you love him?

My pal enc wants these Prada Boots, which Neiman Marcus will gladly provide for $1,200.  In a lucky coincidence, I found my self online last night, hypnotized by crazy boots at Amazon.

Once I started looking, I couldn’t stop. It’s like eating Oreo cookies. You must keep going until the package is empty. I found a style that’s similar to the Prada, at a savings of $1,150.

Call me nuts, but I just don’t see why anyone needs Prada. I feel the same about the Lanvin ballet flats. The only reason to pay $500 for them is to feel special for wasting all that money. You can waste only $134 at Sue London for the same buttery soft quality, plus they come with a matching leather shoe bag!

I think I’m as brainwashed as anyone into craving luxury items at insane prices. But more and more, I’m wondering if the initial rush is worth it. Do we really need the tag to say Prada or Chanel to feel good about ourselves? I’m starting to feel “Been there, Done that” about luxury items. But maybe you need to own a beat up, poorly constructed Chanel bag to achieve this attitude.

It’s not like I’ve transcended snobbery or anything. I’d still go barefoot before buying shoes by Jessica Simpson. I still recoil from Juicy Couture. In fact, if I stop, someone call a doctor!

Back to the splendor of the crazy boots at Amazon (and speaking of Doctors) here is one I’d like for the boudoir:

And here’s the one that upset me the most.

Sometimes, things that are awful bring us joy; but sometimes, they’re just plain awful. Queen Marie was rightly offended by the notion of fake high-heels made for babies. For $35, you can buy a pair of these shoes, put them on a baby and laugh your ass off. Ha ha, look at the baby! You could also put sunglasses and jewelry on the baby and laugh even more. Sister Wolf says, Give that $35 to a homeless shelter and leave the baby alone.

As a fur-lover and proud carnivore, I am usually happy to see fur accessories, but here’s something that shocked me with it’s assaultive ugliness. Not only are these leg-warmers an abomination, they are even sold out! Presumably, whoever bought them is somewhere right now, laughing at babies in high heels.

For the third and final No, I bring you this photo courtesy of The Look-See. These models were used by Yohji, Etro, and Ann Demeulemeester in Milan. They are not conventional male model types, get it? They are old geezers! This is so funny, like high heels on a baby! But I would rather stick with handsome boys.

The moral here is that some people will be fooled into accepting awfulness as some sort of post-modern joke, but We are simply not having it.

None of us like Handbag Snobbery (unless we are the ones disparaging someone else’s choice of handbag.) I don’t even like it when a person praises my handbag, for god sake. When Susie B wrote about suffering the disdainful gaze of two awful Handbag Snobs on a train, my heart went out to her.  I should start making little badges that say “Please don’t stare at my handbag.”

It’s a difficult situation if you care about style and fashion. I love my bags for being both beautiful and expensive. I love them for being not the ones that are obvious and popular. But on some occasions, I don’t want the burden of my enormous handbag. So I pack my essentials into a bag that I selected for it’s stomach-turning ugliness.

Check out its ugly features. The flower thing made out of a zipper, the studded wristlet, the gold handcuff things dangling there for no reason, and the purple plastic that is actually transparent even though you can’t tell from the picture. It is eight X five inches of pure eyesore.  All that for $11.

And speaking of eyesore, today at the mall I walked past a shoe-store window and was assaulted by a vision from hell itself: Gladiator sandals in a rainbow of awful colors, signifying to me that gladiators have not only jumped the shark, they have eaten and regurgitated the shark. Behold the wares of Shiekh shoes.

The results are in. I have learned that I am too old and cranky to model for a camera, not to mention changing outfits. Notice how these overalls make me look like I’m wearing jodhpurs. I look like a hippo. No matter how many times I am forced to whine that “I’m not fat in real life” god has decided to make me sound like a lying hippo.

Whosoever wants these overalls and wears a US 4 is welcome to them. They have little zips at the ankles, so being short might be a problem. Simply write a nice compliment about hippos and you win!

Here is what happened another time I tried to model.

Oh well. Next time I decide to model something, I will fucking well put on a girdle or truss or something.

On a brighter note, I just found out here that the FIT Museum is putting together an exhibit called “Dark Glamour”, devoted to the gothic in fashion. Thank you, Susan!  This is all the excuse I need to plan a trip to New York.

God bless a woman who doesn’t want Botox and speaks her mind. This is how to be 67, if you’re as cool as Vivienne Westwood. Of course, none of us are, but here’s what she says about Sex And The City:

“I thought Sex And The City was supposed to be about cutting-edge fashion and there was nothing remotely memorable or interesting about what I saw.

“I went to the premiere and left after ten minutes.”

Today’s worthy Object of Hatred is New York photographer Ryan McGinley. He is famous for his photos of naked young people, frolicking in the woods or whatever he wants them to do.  His subjects are often his group of supercool friends, a la Nan Goldin, but more detached and pointless. He has gone from self-described skater kid to acclaimed bigtime Hipster.

It’s not just that I hate his work or that he’s a friend of Hipster Faux-Artist Dash Snow. It’s his clothes, which he eagerly describes in self-aggrandizing detail in Vice Magazine.

For example, in the photo above, McGinley notes that he’s wearing Robert Mapplethorpe’s leather pants. Oh my, that is cool, right? Or is it sickening? Later, when you learn that they were a “gift” from Jack Walls, an old black guy who was one of Mapplethorpe’s favorite models, one can assume that McGinley is quite the opportunist. And one is not any happier when McGinley says of a  t-shirt, “If you’re Japanese, you probably collect this shit.”

After you’ve seen and read about his wardrobe, Ryan McGinley leaves you with the bad taste of rotten Hipster in your mouth. You may even look at your own Converse shoes a little suspiciously.

I hate Ryan McGinley and now you can, too!

I am hereby launching an exciting new feature called “Why did I buy this?” The hope is that someone can suggest a way I can wear the item in question, rather than continue to avoid making eye-contact with it in my closet or under the bed (where the unworn shoes go.)

I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought this black overall thing, but I remember really wanting it. It’s made of very lightweight wool, and the top part is very slouchy.

I would never, ever wear it with a blouse like the model is wearing, since I am not a milk-maid. Remember, as I stated somewhere recently, “Sister Wolf takes her fashion cues from Patti Smith, Morticia Addams, Keith Richards, and a Jewish grandma circa 1975.”

How about a white tank top and lots of bangles? A black t-shirt? A fitted white shirt? Ugh, right? I’m stumped. I’m not afraid of looking too manly, but I am afraid of frilly and I hate anything that might be called boho.

Well, there it is. Help a Sister out! And if you think this was a wacky purchase, just you wait.