Dressed To Kill

Dressed To Kill (or Are You Really Going Out In That?)

An open letter to all the anti-fashionistas out there.

To whom it may concern,

Seriously, what are you wearing? Take a good look at yourself in a floor length mirror and tell me what you see. If it involves sweat pants, double denim, or socks with sandals, go back and start over.

Now, I’m a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy, but I know a tragedy when I see one. There are certain things that are definite fashion “don’t”s and they are supposedly common knowledge. But still, here I am sitting in a mall watching a parade of fashion crimes going by, and I must therefore rant about it. Yes, I know it’s warm around these parts right now, but that’s no excuse for dressing down. (Pun intended.)

Gents, put on a shirt. You are making me either jealous or nauseated. You are not at the beach, and you’re not posing for a calendar. And I think you are shedding.

Chances are, you are not this guy:

Or even this guy:

You are probably this guy:

Boys, it’s time to pull up those pants. The guys who started that trend are so old now that they wear their pants up to their nipples. It was never a good look, and you are not a gangster; you are a white suburban teenager. If I see your underwear it’s going to be wedgie time. You have been warned.

Ladies. Shave those legs or cover them up. You’re risking being mistaken for Sasquatch. And you’re scaring the children. I don’t mean to be sexist, but yecch! If you don’t like it, start a revolution. Let me know how that works out for you. I’ll be fighting on the other side.

The only muffin tops I want to see are on actual muffins. If I say six pack, and you think of donuts or beer and not abs, you may want to go a size larger on that baby doll T-shirt. I’m just saying.

Also, we need to talk about that haircut.

About Sean Sandulak

Crazed recluse and sociophobe who has taken up writing after failing at everything else. Send pizza.