So I realize it's been a while. Work has been preciently dramatic and "things" have been happening. And by "things" I mean I've been constipated for a couple of days. And also someone is getting fired and there's a different hysterical teacher weeping down their paperwork and into the children's ebon tresses on a nearly daily basis. I was almost there today, but luckily someone else ended up crying, so I'll have to make it up later with a double. Double crying day = double fudge Baskin Robbins.
=
See? Math HAS become useful in the real world.
So let us turn to the most pressing matter in the world today: fashion. Without periodicals such as Vogue and GQ, where would we turn for our sartorial enrichment? No, QVC doesn't count. No, not Wal*Mart either.
There are people in this world who can be given all of the ingredients for success: entrenchment in American advertising, inundation with the best costume designers the world cinema has to offer, a rapidly increasing economy and thusly increasing contact with the outside world, and still...STILL...those people can choose to pick up on maybe the dumbest thing allowed to be manufactured as "clothing" and hang onto it for dear life. Or they can wear nice things in a wrong and obstropulous manner.
Men's Waistlines
Trim, slim, enviable, 14-year-old girl; these all adequately describe the waistline of the average Korean man between the ages of about 18 to 29. These men wear exquisitely tailored pants, shirts, vests, suits, jackets, overcoats (yes, their overcoats are tailored here, and yes...we should be doing it at home). The shapes they cut in their clothing are what come out of the pens and pencils of Ralph and Yves and Hugo as they sit in their severe wingback chairs and press their fingers to their temples.
HOWEVER! Most of these suits incorporate some kind of shiny weft or blend. There's nary a natural fabric to be seen because, if it's natural, it won't look shiny enough and a suit ought to be damned shiny!
SHINY I SAY! It would seem Koreans enjoy flash not only on the outsides of their buildings but also on the outsides of their bodies. It's only a matter of time before a gentleman late for work can advertise (in neon lights) the brand of cigarettes he's going to smoke as he grunts his frustration and excrement into an unsanitary porcelain receptacle.
You read that right: they smoke on the turrlet.
Anyhoo, the men here all look fairly well-done. And then...they get what they deem is an important position...and all hell breaks loose. In this case, hell is any sense of where their chests begin and their waists end. For some reason I have yet to suss out, the men over thirty wear their pants up. No, I mean...UP. U-P UP. They can have conversations on their cell phones without ever taking them out of their pockets, and I ain't talkin' Bluetooth here, techno-savvy reader. Hmm-mm no.
It's as if they get a new pair of slacks on their thirtieth birthday that has the crotch sewn in down at the ankles. They get that mighty bank manager assistant position (from their crooked second cousin) and soon their pants are as high as an elephant's eye.
"This is known as the high and squatty. Not for the faint of thigh or the low of underbits."
Not attractive. I've seen one hoist his pants three times in as many minutes and each time he got closer and closer to dividing his own torso in half with his inseam.
Also in fashion right now is the lady 'do for men. Needless to say I've seen lots of nice middle-aged women here who turn out to be dudes with Debbie Reynolds' old hair on. I have no idea what's happening anymore.
Lady's Fashions
Well...it's fairly clear that prostitution is legal in the ROK. Even if it isn't, the fashion of the Hollywood call-girl seems to have made its way into the hearts of the twentysomething set here. No longer able to wear their old high school uniform, which undoubtedly originally lured their boyfriends to them, they attempt to play riffs on a theme. That theme is "Bad Girls" by Donna Summer.
The skirts here are merely tube tops being worn on the wrong end. This much I can forgive but leopard print? Is this Miami or Queens? I just don't think so!
I haven't seen hide nor hair of a Jew or Jewess in some time, so to find an answer to this textilic conundrum, I must delve further.
The other favorite is the shapeless large sweatshirt or sweater that doubles as (shock) a dress.
Dear Korean 20-year-old Woman, A SWEATSHIRT IS NOT NOW, NOR HAS IT EVER BEEN - EXCEPT FOR A DISASTEROUS ALBEIT BRIEF MOMENT BETWEEN 1979 AND 1991 - OKAY TO WEAR A SWEATSHIRT AS A DRESS. What's strange is that the culture is weirdly prude. How can we counteract showing all of that leg?
How?
READER HOW?!
STIRRUP PANTS! I cannot contain my righteous, fervent, immmolating anger and disgust. Have we learned nothing from our past mistakes? Was ALL of Korea asleep when we, the mod'ren world, turned our backs and sniffed at such frivilous caprice and went our seperate way, kicking our day-glo spandex shorts and shoudler-pad-infested jacket collection into the everloving fashion furnace? Yes, seems to be their collective yet crappy answer.
Also on the lady front is a love for boots purchased from the local hooker-witch bargain emporium, serving all of your red light and ritualistic pagan needs. Not only are they mostly boots of the knee-high variety, the heels are as treacherous as a night out with Lindsay Lohan; there's a one-in-three chance you'll end up with either a concussion or a magical STD.
I told you: wiccan trollops, unite!
I digress. And undress. And redress. That's how I spend my time in the subway: imagining people in better clothes. But then I come home and look at my revolving wardrobe of five pants and three shirts and think "what right do you have to tear these people apart when you couldn't fit their wardrobe up over your left thigh?"
The answer is: I'm no fashionisto, I'm an aesthete. The difference? Aesthetes get to eat whatever the hell they want and get to spend less than $100 for a pair of jeans.
I WIN!
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