Fashion
Looking at the recent international crowds at the Formula 1 events that happened this past weekend, I find that in Kuala Lumpur there are a lot of local girls that seem to be trying desperately to convey an artistic message via the clothes they wear. Though exactly WHAT that message IS I have no idea. The foreign girls however, seeming to enjoy the glorious warm tropical weather express themselves in other fashion ways with the clothes they DON’T wear.
It’s fashion hell. I’ve officially maxed out too many credit cards, spent too many hours traipsing through the malls and street markets and boutiques and I’m being punished for my transgressions by being banished to fashion hell. I swear! Most of the time I just want to ask these girls, “do you prefer fashion victim, or ensembly challenged?” My male mates always ask me, “hey you’re a girl, explain why that chick is wearing that?” And most of the time, I’m stumped for a reply. Y’see, to the guys the WOMAN is a pretty part, not the clothes.
Unlike my mates, I ‘get’ fashion. I’m all for the art and drama behind haute couture and the craftsmanship of the darling designer labels with its hefty price tags. What I don’t ‘get’ is the wearing of designer logos for the sake of the logos. Might as well wear a sandwich board with the logo of your preferred fashion house emblazoned on it. Oh I wear my Prada and my Bally boots, and my Versace jeans and my Calvin Klein undergarments like every other cosmopolitan girl but there’s something very wrong to see a girl festooned with her LV EVERYTHING from her hair tie, earrings, sunglasses, necklace, neck scarf, brooch, blouse, belt, purse, handbag, iPod cover, cellphone casing, skirt, stockings, socks & shoes… That is just… Criminal. That girl probably spent the gross national budget of a very small country outfitting herself. For the day. See. That kind of artistic fashion message I don’t get.
Honestly though, that LV fashionista (that’s what they call ‘em nowadays – it’s a nicer term that fashion victim) is probably a damn slight better than some of the girls I saw recently. The foreign girls seem to be quite fond of the strapless, braless, backless and generally fearless outfits – jiggle fests is a common occurrence. Something I do not need to see ever again in my lifetime! Did I also mention the super low cut pants that seem to require a daily bikini wax and when they turn around you are smacked with the whale tail or worse – the plumber’s crack!
Local girls are no better – I’ve seen some girls with neon green leg warmers (why leg warmers in a country that doesn’t go below 27 degrees Celsius I have no freaking idea) - worn together with day-glo tights, pink/red/black/yellow tartan skirts, ripped purple/orange/brown t-shirts with their ratty mismatched undergarments peeking through and a multitude of rings, bracelets, scarves, belts and hair clips and multicolour scrunchies all worn at the same time! HELLO???
And ugh, do NOT get me started on the many many many girls with the bleached blond hair! Or the visible panty lines! Worse - visible saggy, ratty, granny knickers panty lines under tight white pants!!! G-strings sticking out a mile high like a demented beacon! Glitter eyeshadow smeared so far up her scalp that you wonder where her forehead went… Platform boots so high you need a crane lift to wear. Then there’s the ’sexy clubbing clothes’ that make me wanna scream, "oy, there’s a transvestite in King’s Cross that would like ‘her’ clothes back!" That’s enough to make my nose bleed!
And I swear to GOD, if I ever find out who made those clingy, frilly, short skirts in sizes large enough to be worn by… beached whales… I will take a BIG stick and beat you till the candy comes out!