I can’t deal. It’s fall 2009 and what they’ve predicted has all come true. I’ve seen ‘em. They’ve officially descended upon us like the vinyl-clad seat of a dominatrix who mistakenly thinks we want our faces suffocated. They’re everywhere. On the street. On public transportation. The sticky, deplorable, throbbing, bastard mass sprung from the loins of FASHION like so much StrangÃƒÂ© perfume from Grace Jones’ womb: the over-the-knee-boot.
This is old news as far as EVERYBODY showing some version of this on their runways for fall but now we’re beginning to see them, not on the spindly femurs of stick people like Vogue Nippon’s Anna Dello Russo who’s so thin JAPANESE people want to give her a sandwich and then fly a plane sideways through the isosceles triangle of negative space between her thighs. I’m seeing this scourge on the worst canvas imaginable-regular folk. The Gucci, Louboutin, Choo, Chanel has trickled down to Charlotte Russe, Victoria’s Secret and Steve Madden and yo, this is BAD NEWS.
We needed the $3k barrier to entry. NEEDED. But thanks to bootleggers and overly ambitious ladies for whom “holiday clothing” was invented, those lovely dames who think lace “goes with” sequins, confident daughters who received exactly the right amount of love from their parents and “love their job,” “look good in hats” and wear hosiery in red and green, thanks to them and their SENSE OF ADVENTURE I am experiencing something I was wholly unprepared for: THIGH-HIGH BOOT MUFFIN TOP.
These disgusting shoes that happily swashbuckle up your leg to munch on your-thanks to micro winter shorts and leggings-totally visible, strangled-to-the-point-of-bulbous PUDENDA are bad for business. Unless you’re a safety girl who stows Gold Circle Coin condom of champions in them, I don’t understand how healthy people with eyes and reflective surfaces who still menstruate regularly and swallow after chewing food don’t know this is a fucking practical joke run by the fashion industry, famous people, and anorexics who do this shit instead of crying and running in place.
There is no double-breasted boy blazer with rolled-up sleeves that makes this OK, no top long enough. Rihanna DOES look good in ‘em but Rihanna is also wearing a leotard with no pants and very beautiful sunglasses made entirely of black, opaque acrylic that maybe has an earring. Rihanna has seeing-eye-people, in the name of fashion. Rihanna could carry a Sybian and pretend it’s a purse. Rihanna’s boots are too scared to look bad on Rihanna. Rihanna is Rihanna. She runs this town. Lady on the F train sporting these shits in their $80, stretchy-fabric, KITTEN HEEL iteration in broad daylight is NOT Rihanna. I’m starting a petition.