Ah, the 1980s. A magical time where we all believed in capitalism with all our might. Arnold told us he'd be back. We inquired about where, indeed, the beef was located. Alf proclaimed, "I kill me." Michael Douglas slithered as Gordon Gekko. We were gagged with spoons. Alexis and Crystal had sequined, shoulder-padded cat fights. People wore some terrible, terrible clothing. Why did you think everyone did all that cocaine and had all that pre-AIDS sex? To get one another out of those horrible fashions.
But dismayingly, inexplicably, and like megalomania, 1980s-style clothing is, indeed, evidently back in fashion. As far as I can tell. Being the elderly, I have to go by the thick glossy magazines that threaten my self-esteem and by what's on the rack at my local stores. But everything I'm seeing right now makes me look like Claire Huxtable. And it's bad, people. BAD. These trends were horrifying enough back then. This is like returning to an abusive relationship. We need an intervention, and I'm glad to provide one. Behold: 80s trends that do not look good on you, or indeed, anyone now or ever:
Flashdance-style loose tunics and belly shirts. You are not Irene Cara (look it up, whippersnappers). And unless you are the taut captain of the high school cheerleading squad, you do not have the belly to pull this off. And then it would still be inappropriate. Trust me. And these tunics are particularly offensive when paired with...
Big obnoxious patterns. A five year old doesn't look good in polka dots. You don't either. Giant stripes, pink animal prints...Your shirt, ideally, should not be audible. Which leads me to...
Neon colors. We had a saying back in the 80s, and it still applies here: friends don't let friends wear neon. I don't care if Oprah's wearing orange pants and Gayle's in bright green. They are misguided. Breathtaking wealth doesn't save you from fashion faux pas. The average American female tuchus is a size fourteen. That's a lot of pants seat. It is ill advised for that seat to be teal.
Spandex leggings or 'jeggings': Have you seen the average American? For the love of all that is holy: most of us look like we are stuffed in sausage casings when we don this abhorrence. And no giant, Demi-Moore-in-About-Last-Night oversized-dress-sweater can or will conceal the crime that are my thighs in Lycra.
Shoulder pads. Unless it's a particularly good sale at Neiman's or you have some other plausible reason to tackle someone, you probably should not resemble a defensive end.
Crimped hair. It was as wrong on Debbie Harry as it is on Rihanna. I want to buy you conditioner.
Leg warmers. This is not Black Swan. These are to be forgiven only in transit to or from an actual ballet lesson.
Leotards. See above. Plus, aren't these just onesies for grown women? It is so wrong for anyone over the age of fourteen months to have their shirt snap at the crotch.
Jelly shoes. Especially in Texas. We've got way too much heat and skin. The smell of people's feet stuffed in plastic is like napalm here. And there's got to be a name for the feet-fat that squishes out, waffle style, from between the straps. Shudder.
Scrunchies. I am not a Heather, but you can consider me the new sheriff in town, of sorts. Just. No.
Bedazzling. There are WAY too many sequins out there right now. I blame Snooki for what I'm calling the Jersification of the nation. It's tacky, y'all. As are press on nails (whether "active" or "glamor length." It's irrelevant).
Headbands. Not the ones that sit on top of your head. The ones across the forehead. A la Peaches Geldof. The wrong is strong with this one.
Jams. The big, flowered, knee-length shorts? GOD FORBID. Can Panama Jack or Coke brand clothing be far behind? WE MUST STOP THE MADNESS. For the good of the children.
Swatch watches. See above re: plastic accessories and sweaty people. And on account of the general hideousness.
Members Only jackets. I forgive this on Paris Jackson alone.
Rat tails. They're called RAT tails. How flattering could they have ever been? And finally:
Bubble skirts. I can say with authority that any garment that "bubbles" anywhere near your hips? Not just a no. But a HELL NO. I cannot reiterate this enough.
So, as usual, you're welcome. Please, consider your fellow man in the selection of your outerwear. I'm allergic to ugly. These are items I have indeed seen in high-end stores lately. We may or may not be doomed. But one thing you can count on: you will not see me out in a turquoise jacket.
Flannel and ripped jeans always did suit me better, after all. Wake me up not when it's time to go-go, please, but when it's time for the 90s styles to make a repeat. Except for the Hammer pants. Natch.
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