These photos (courtesy of Melbourne's 'The Age' newspaper) were recently taken at some fashion shows in Milan. I'm departing from my normal 'Take Cheap Shots at the Famous' fashion-wearers and am instead now flinging poo-pats at the fashion designers.
Firstly, how old is this kid - ten, eleven? How is this Milly-Molly-Mandy going to convince me to buy a tacky tanktop and white overalls? What buyer is the designer aiming for - paedophile puppeteers?
Ah, I see, it's irony: instead of revealing black roots ala Pamela Anderson, let's put an obvious Pepe Le Peuw white stripe down the model's head!
The see-through, sheer t-shirt may be just (squeezing fingers) this side of acceptable in Fashion Victim Valley, but I just can't see myself strolling through university to greet a visiting professor wearing this ensemble any time soon.
Besides, if I went braless from her age (let's be generous and say she's fourteen), I'd now be able to fling 'em back over my shoulder like scarf ends.
In this photo, it is the model and not the clothes that first attract (pitying) attention. The headband is clearly too tight for her noggin, making her not only cross eyed but only serving to cruelly pull her nipples up towards her collarbones.
Weird breasts aside, this macrame over a g-string outfit is something a porn star with burst implants would wear on holiday, not a normal person who still elects to have eyes that are fully operational and is able to stare straight ahead instead of being permanently focussed brow-wards in a futile attempt to find living grey matter behind the bone......
Thank you, fashion designer, for coming up with something I'd be so proud to wear in front of my parents.
I know I blogged only a few days ago that I've taken to enjoying a session of knitting or three, but a bathing suit....?!
Bless her sweet heart though, she must have insisted on using 100% Australian wool and has therefore saved costs by using a child's pattern.
This just screams "I'm a micro-biology professor, please take me seriously" doesn't it?
Designed clearly for Bad Hair Day sufferers, the intention behind this - unfortunately titled - Pearl Face Necklace - is to draw attention away from said follicular tragedy and towards the bigger tragedy that is the victim's willingness to wear it.
The fake orange rose buds perched on top of the head also help to add that extra 'something' to its overall stupidity. Still, I could be laughing on the other side of my face (what does that mean, anyway) if all the other mums at my daughter's school are wearing this on Sports Day.
The strapless thingy is, well, marginally better than the pearls - at least Grandma's old deckchair cushions have found a new home.
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