Dear Sirs,

I think it’s great that society has progressed this far. We’re hardly into the 21st century and already a huge population of the country, and maybe even the world, has embraced gay rights. Free-thinkers are cool with men loving other men, women making out with other women, and so forth. In some states you can even get married, just like boy/girl couples!

…What?  You’re who?

Oh.

Images from I’m Not Obssesed.

A black velvet, floor-length suit-dress enters the room. Tan pantyhose peeking out of dyeable shoes can be seen down below. The smell of Cinnabar fills the air. This may sound like a bad mother-of-the-bride getup until the woman turns around. Tufts of teased, badly highlighted and overly hair sprayed locks are held in place with a mammoth bow. The situation has now become your worst nightmare. You ferociously pinch yourself, but you aren’t waking up, and the poltergeist isn’t leaving the room. You realize you have just been attacked by Mom Hair.

Unless you are above 14th Street more often than the occasional shopping trip and bite to eat, you probably haven’t seen this plague hit your neighborhood. But I must inform the sheltered that here in the Midwest, this is a daily occurrence. Sure, that by spending most of my time in class or throwing beers off the balcony at the downtown bar, I’m not exposed to this as much as some. But a recent trip to a strip mall in Cleveland tested my patience… and my gag reflex. I remember my mother having similar hair bows and feathered style IN THE EIGHTIES. This hair sprayed rat’s nest of a fashion needs to be taken down and fast. Please, if you see any of these in your neighborhood, send me the photos. Mom Hair intervention teams will be standing by to raid the accessory drawers of those with this awful plague.

Why is it that every pop n lockin, Step Up 2: The Streets watching, b-girl wannabe thinks it’s fashionable to match their shoes to their outfits?  I realize it’s an accomplishment to match colors and their elementary school teacher probably gave them an extra star a few years back for accomplishing this task in the 1st grade, but isn’t it about time these people grew up?

I mean really, are you trying to look like the Pepto Bismol Man threw up all over your look (I realize that character doesn’t exist but if he did I’d imagine he’d look like a pink version of the Michelin Man only with a little more nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea, YAY Pepto Bismal)?

Either way, this look needs to go faster than a man with irritable bowel syndrome after a burrito bowl from Taco Hell…

I made a trip to Akron last night to visit with friends and dance to some good music. Upon arrival at the bar, I bought a drink, found a table and headed to the bathroom. But something stopped me right before I could make it into one of the miserable stalls. I saw this furry penguin backpack purse and literally could not avert my stare. It’s one thing for a child, age six, to be toting one around the county fair with her sticky, cotton candy coated fingers. But it’s quite another to see a dead penguin sipping on a gin and tonic while the wearer is sweating it out to Cut Copy.

If you are going to look like a fool, at least do it in style. A furry penguin should be worn when ice skating in Rockefeller Center. The black and white cow style should be lugged about while working on farm scooping manure and feeding chickens. Finally, the lovely dolphin design would work at Sea World or while deep sea diving. So, buy these bundles of creepiness for you nieces and nephews if you desire. But if you are old enough to drive, you’re definitely too old to carry one yourself.

FI Editor Rebecca Alexander reinvents denim.

This past weekend we hit up Atlantic Avenue for a street festival which featured a woman attempting to pawn this off as mis-mosh of Salvation Army Calvin Klein’s and some cut of dress as a “high-fashion” jacket.

Rebecca decided to try it on and this Backstabber was born.

If saving the environment means wearing Frankenfashions like this, I’m opting for burning this mother fucking planet down.

Walmart has nearly everything you could possibly want, except a bra for your selectively placed back chunkage.

Nows the time for this woman (might be a man) to consider a little elective surgery. Just be sure to skip the tummy tuck and head straight to the breast reduction.  I seriously wonder if you could milk those things…

If you’re going to hunt, maim, and skin Fraggles can you please not wear their carcasses in the form of a knit poncho while dancing to a shitty Johnny Cash tribute band. Thank you.

Aw, hippies. You can’t live with them, you can’t excommunicate their ganga smoking asses to Canada.  Seriously, this woman’s attempt to appear fashionable outside of Gen Art’s annual Styles event borders on commendable. She probably picked up that dress during the NIxon era and only found the mismatching handbag last week on Canal Street. That’s nearly 40 years of bad fashion just waiting to join together to vomit all over our eyes.

Remember the time Sid Vicious pulled us on stage and we crowd surf and then we headed back to his hotel room and do lines of coke and LSD and then he headed into the closet to auto-erotic asphyxiate himself and died…

Yeah, those were the days.