Being the fashion and style arbiter that I am, I am constantly asked to "blog" about events, people, books, and websites. For some it is a pleasure to oblige. For others, one wonders if they have read this blog in any depth. Have I ever been anything but plus-size positive? No. Have I ever pretended to be a naive young jeune femme? No.
So imagine my extreme displeasure when I was asked to "blog" about a new vintage clothes selling website, which shall remain nameless. I went to the "About Us" page. And I found out far too much. An excerpt:
Expect to see vintage fashion that is wearable and yet truly amazing. No freak vintage here. We love the 70's –although we are not old enough to really remember them.
It is always a pleasure to see beautiful things sold by people with no sense of history whatsoever. Your faithful correspondent sells clothes from the 1950s, but I do not make it a selling point that I was not born yet. At least as far as I know (cf one of my earlier entries...do a search for "Mama").
We live by some simple image rules:
If you are larger than a size 2, black is your friend. Black can be your enemy if it is your entire wardrobe.
The first part of that statement alone should get them banned from selling clothing to any woman, ever, anywhere.
Do they think those Hollywood actresses with wasting diseases look good?
Unique vintage does not mean freak vintage. Some things are just better off left in the past. The secret with wearing vintage is that no one should be able to tell it is vintage. If it screams vintage then it is freak vintage.
Oh, but if it screams "Better quality than the current cheap H & M knockoff!" it is socially acceptable?
Mon dieu! I never thought I would see the day when vintage clothing was used to suppress originality and one's personal sense of style, rather than enhance it.
Stay true to yourself, but try something new once a season. I think I look best as a blonde, but I change the shade every season. This spring I really branched out and added bangs. XXX and I think you do either bangs or botox once you are in your mid-thirties.
Of course, one might actually look like a human being if one let those terrible wrinkles and folds get a hold of you. Your faithful correspondent is fortunate enough to have a beautifully creamy complexion, but even so I have no desire to have needles stuck in my face, neck and other places to hide the fact that I have lived.
This, mon cher readers, is the website equivalent to one of those shallow little boutiques where the rail-thin saleswomen fold their arms when a potential customer enters and look in the other direction. It is a dark day when a website can make women fell bad about themselves without the need for face-to-face contact.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
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