Appropriate Court Wear? Hah!

Dear fellow attorney lady,

I know. The courts are stuck in the 80s and those suits are so so stuffy when you have to wear them every day. And let's not even go on about the high heeled shoes we are for some reason expected to wear. 

Yeah I too remember being told in law school that women should be wearing skirt suits, heels and pearls to interviews and court. Because, it's the 80s. Or maybe the 60s. But definitely not the modern era where women can wear pants and flats. Because the court system sucks that's why.

However.

All this sexism aside, a bright blue skirt that was gently tip toeing into mini-skirt land and cowboy boots, no matter how demure the blazer they were matched with, are just not okay.

I don't even know what you were trying to do there. But don't do it again.

With love,

Vixen [who also sometimes wishes to wear outlandish things to court... BUT NEVER DOES!]

And for a bonus:

Kudos lady who I am pretty sure is not a lawyer. Your ensemble of sweatpants and uggs in court was just breathtaking. Keep up the crazy work.

Shoe abuse

Here is a not so secret confession.

I have a shoe problem. No matter how many I have, I always want more. And I play favorites. Because shoes are not created equal.

So yeah shocker secondary confession, I judge other people's shoes. You guys know that.

But today... today my vision went dark.

What is seen cannot be unseen...

I admit that my position on uggs is that of general disfavor.

But today. Today.  Oh today...

Today I saw an attorney in a courtroom in an attractive dark suit, neatly arranged hair and... uggs.

Honey. Oh honey. Not okay.

I know it's colder than the proverbial witch's tit (which is frankly bizarre and makes no sense) but that is not only hideous but also not appropriate.

But it's okay. After court we can have a liquid lunch so I can cope with my trauma and go shoe shopping. Because shoes.

Shirts and vests and hats!!!

Sandy is over. The mta is recovering.

In honor of NY, I present:

Dear creepy creepy man,

It's like forty degrees. Everyone but you is bundled up. And we are probably getting snow today.

And you have your shirt oh so stylishly unbuttoned beneath your vest nearly to your stomach because you think we, your not so adoring public, wish to gaze lovingly upon the graying thatch inhabiting your chest.

I assure you, this is not the case.

What is seen cannot be unseen.

Button up.

Save our eyes from the burning and yourself from pneumonia.

No love,

The girl in the hat, scarf and arm warmers.

Exception Tests the Rule

If you must do the dreaded running shoe (which you must NOT), then at least do it with panache like the young woman this morning - a sky blue sneaker with bright orange laces. That's not comfort, that's bucking the establishment.

I still hate the running shoe with office clothing but she gets points for being fun. If the train was stuck for a few hours (which is always an option in the city), I think we could bond and talk about city adventures - yes I do judge strangers based on shoes, why do you ask?

The Shoe Hammer

Dear women of New York,

I've tried to hold this in. I've kept this back all summer. But I can keep quiet no longer.

With all of the attractive warm or cold weather shoe options available, there is no excuse* to wear running shoes with your business or casual business clothing.

*This does not include women with foot medical issues although I wonder if there are better options there too? A cute Mary Jane perhaps? With extra cushioning?

The running shoes stick out like a gnarled, infected thumb, always some other pale color that completely clashes with the outfit. It's what the lovely ladies at GFY call a scroll down fug.  Great look till you get down... to the feet.

There are sandals or flats for warm weather and boots for cold.

So no. No more running shoes, women of New York, unless you're actually running.

Love,

The crazy shoe addict who is yay close to tearing the running shoes of off you all...

Leggings and Ladyparts

Hi everyone. Sorry about my hiatus. I'd like to tell you I was in Cabo, drinking fruity umbrella drinks on the beach. Or in my villa at the Riviera having my feet massaged by men with glistening abs. Alas, nothing so exciting. Not even a feather boa.

I do return to you with a cough-cough lovely story.

Walking to the train, I witnessed a man attempting to grab the crotch of his tank top and leggings clad girlfriend.

Two rules for women occur to me as a result:

1. Don't wear leggings without a tunic or some kind of long top to cover your privates.

And.

2. Don't date men who think it alright to manhandle your lady parts on a busy city street in full view of the passing public.

Not sure what koolaid this lady drank but judging but the flirty giggle she offered as she batted his hand away... She may beyond salvation. Sad.

Umbrella ella oh hell ah

While I will never approve of umbrella-hats (small umbrellas strapped onto the wearer's head) for either practical or stylistic reasons, I do give extra effort points to the man wearing one on his shorn bald skull on a sunny morning.

Oh New York.

Half caf blahblah

How much (bad*) coffee do you have to drink so that when you sit at a two seater bench on the lirr your benchmate can smell it on you while leaning away from you as if it is some kind of aggressive perfume?

*As some of you know, I am not much of a coffee drinker. I drink the black gold but rarely, but when I do it better be good. So I'm picky. And the coffee addicts- err... drinkers around me are selective too.

So I can say with certainty, the scent was crappy coffee. Next time, please lady, smell like better coffee. Thanks.*

It might be wise to cut down a little.

And maybe never wear that outfit in public either.

The thing that ate pants

Oh. Oh no. Why lady? Who blackmailed you into wearing that... Thing...

It's baggy in the crotch, loose up to the knees and then tight and snug from the knees all the way down below the ankles.

Like some kind of monstrous mutated child of the harem pants.

No, lady, it isn't worth hiding your past as a courtesan to the head assassin to the drug cartels if the price is this.

Nothing is worth it.

Nothing.

Kudos

Just for those who claim I am too negative (I'm looking at you, mom), today I give kudos to the otherwise unremarkable middle aged woman in casual business clothing.

You rock that royal blue polish, lady.

I don't want to be you when I grow up or anything but I do want your nail polish.

And no, mom, blue nails do not make me look like a drowning victim.

Thwarted

I've noticed in the last year or so that translucent tops are a thing.

Not professional for your industry? Too bad, wear a cami. Don't want an extra layer under your suit jacket and top in the summer heat? Too bad, suffer. Bwahahaha!

What the hell designers?

So naturally I've nearly stopped buying tops other than the occasional opaque one that sneaks through the net of stupid.

But you know, while I can nearly almost sort of (not at all) understand the thing with top... What gives with pants???

Just what is it, oh dear demented fashion maven, that you want me to wear between panties and summer dress pants? And tell the truth, you're not wearing this translucent nonsense are you... Because this is really just some kind of madcap plot the purpose to which is as opaque as your designs are translucent...

I'm onto you, you tricksy little imp... Onto you...

And I'm still not buying your translucent crap...at least not on purpose...

Because shoes

Dear Mr. Not As Cool As He Thinks,

I get that you're dressing down tour suit and not wearing a tie. But that is no reason to don black boat shoes WITHOUT socks in some kind of rebellion against the establishment. It doesn't work and you look stupid.

Yes even more stupid than the young woman next to you tryin to dress her business casual outfit with fifteen dopey bead bracelets on top of her watch.

You're wearing a wedding ring. So if you won't think of the world, at least don't embarrass your spouse.

Love,

The woman in the cute turquoise sandals (because I understand proper footwear).

I wear my sunglasses at night...

That was about big brother government right?

Well, buddy, it's a lot less deep when you wear yours on the subway, on a fairly cool evening.

Takebacks Allowed

So do I have to be injured for fellow humans to show a shred of incipient humanity? Apparently getting black smudges on my hand yesterday, probably during my morning train nap, and then transferring them to my face in a picturesque fashion is insufficient for a kind soul to pause and warn me.

If I hadn't caught sight of the smear of black on my nose from the corner of my eye, I would have walked into my destination marked up like the little cinder girl. Which was a look that explained why the woman on the train glanced at me and laughed. But not why no one told me!

Bah, humans.

Universe 1, vixen 1.

Also, someone stepped on my foot on the return trip. It hurt.

Universe 1, vixen 2.

Another one...

Dear idiot man,

The wannabe thug look is extra stupid when you try to execute it with a suit. Suit pants are not meant to hang off your thighs.

My eyes may never recover.

You suck.

No love,

Your long suffering superior being.

Breakfast

Dear backwards cap guy,

Not only are your fashion choices highly dubious, but you also sat next to me and proceeded to chomp on what appeared to be a bacon, egg and cheese on a roll.

I'm trying to eat sensibly and the smell of cheesy bacony goodness is. Not. Helping.

I highly recommend you sit next to someone else next time. And turn your hat around.

No love,
Your cranky bench mate.

What's worse than an adult onesie?

A strapless adult onesie.

Open Letter

Dear people of New York,

Please do not wear hideous shoes with cute outfits and adorable hair. (Especially ugly bulky sandals that should only ever be worn by hippies in movies.)

It makes me peevish.

You wouldn't like me when I'm peevish.

Love,

Judge, jury and executioner. (Yes I went there.)

First World Problems?

I'm browsing amazon, trying to find an unscented nail polish and tying myself into mental knots.

How do other people {women?) do this?

Is there some kind of girly girl gene that makes figuring out make-up stuff easy that I didn't get?

Cause if so, I demand a refund. And a chocolate chip cookie!

Anachronism?

I hate pantyhose with a fiery, burning passion. 

They're like a weird, creeping vine that climbs your legs and wiggles uncomfortably, clumping and clinging until you just want to dump Greek fire on it. In the summer, they just get damp and even more hideous and in the winter I'd rather wear leggings anyway since they're much warmer and fit better.

Unfortunately, the maternal unit has been insistent that professionals must wear pantyhose with skirt/dress suits and this has become somewhat of a zombie debate. IT JUST WON'T DIE!

So today I tried to take a visual census of of whether professional women wear pantyhose with skirt/dress suits... Either no one wears pantyhose or I have a visual disability to processing the image of the vile things and xray my way straight through them to skin. 

Food for thought?

[Originally posted today at 5:31pm.]