Death By Leggings.

Leggings make me feel dead inside.

Yet I still have exactly 8 pairs.

IMG_4957It’s true – even the sequins don’t make them better.

As I sit back and ruminate on where I went wrong in life, I must surmise that I fell into this slippery slope because of running. Running leggings are amazing. Compressing in all the right spots and freeing in the rest. They are so fantastic that they make all other waistbands feel downright oppressive, and I never feel less jiggly and as if I actually have a firm body than when I’m wearing running leggings. This, along with the fashion world changing to a leggings-based environment, created this heinous situation in my life. This vacuous space in my fashion story. This embarrassment to myself, and one day when they look back on pictures, this embarrassment to my children.

But leggings leggings are not running leggings. Maybe some are, but none of the brands I’ve tried out compare. They compress my lumps and bumps with the efficiency of a stretched out two-sizes-too-big pair of non-control-top pantyhose. And when I pull them up over my twice-c-sectioned belly, I immediately feel like all my everything is put on display, and I look like the identical twin sister to a bag of Idaho potatoes. When I turn around and see the sheer length of my backside – from waist to upper knee – I shudder with horror and feel like I’ve turned away from everything I believe in.

I quickly pull on an oversized, long, solid colored, shapeless top. And sigh.

How did I find myself here?

What happened to my bold prints and the snappiest of denim? What happened to structure and slimming lines and flattering stitching?

I peek in my closet where many of those things still exist, albeit with dust perched atop the hangers.

But oh, the effort. Compared to my up-and-done leggings and boring flowy tops, the waistbands and belts and camisoles and buttons feel. So. Exhausting.

Then I moan with horror.

Is this what it means to let go of myself?

To forget what it’s like to care about fashion?


Then I look around and see women everywhere, young and old, having reproduced and not, doing the same thing.

And I let a relieved breath go.

It’s not just me.

Maybe this year’s fashion is the fault of the cesspool of bubbling pus that was 2016 for America. The national situation was such that it left us no energy for zippers and spanx.

It’s not the first time this has happened, after all. There were the giant sweaters and stirrups* in the early 90s (I had a light brown baby poo colored sweater that could’ve comfortably fit my dad. I wore it everywhere, proudly.)

*confession: I miss stirrups. That band on the bottom of my foot felt downright pleasurable. But I shudder to think of their effect on my now belly.

So, fashion is obviously cyclical.

In a few years we’ll all be back to structured shirts (that haven’t had their shoulders mysteriously removed), bootcut jeans (shaped ever so slightly different and given some new clever name like ‘gram jeans or something), and maybe even heels.

So I say we go ahead and usher in the next fashion cycle.


Throw away those leggings (stop! no! Not the running ones! Just the soul-sucking ones.), pull out our lonely denim, suck ourselves into those foreign and bizarrely restrictive waistbands, and




In just a few minutes.

Because these leggings are so comfortable…..

Five Jeans That Shouldn’t Exist.

As I’ve noted a few times, I do about 90% of my shopping on HauteLook. I’m a fan of shopping on my phone, and I’m fairly good at gauging what will fit and what won’t. Plus, I return what I don’t want and everyone’s happy.

And they have some ahhhhmazing jeans on there. For ridiculously good prices.

But lately, I’ve been running across some jeans that have…concerned me.

Okay they’ve made me drop my phone and run screaming to find antiseptic for my retinas.

Allow me to escort you back to 1984 to start our journey in discussing five jeans that shouldn’t exist. Five pieces of denim so mistreated that they could win an abuse case against their manufacturer.

1. Culottes the size of Cuba.


Oh yes. Those shorts would have even been acceptable at my track meets. The pleats alone contain more fabric than any single pair of shorts that I own. Or maybe all of my shorts sewn together.

And just in case you wanted to see how smoking hottt these shorts look with a little midriff showing (and I do mean a little)…


I know right. These shorts are nearly too indecent to publish on the internet. Because nothing. Nothing I say. Uplifts your butt like fifty yards of denim straight from JoAnn Fabrics draping over it.



Kim Kardashian is weeping in envy right this second.

But let’s move on.

2. The Overall Mini-Dress.

This is Culotte Girl’s rebellious next-door neighbor. She’s the Kimmie to her D.J., The Betty to her Wilma. She says “I’m sexy and I know it but I want to look like an 18 month old boy.”

3. The Sleeveless Denim Romper. For those who want to look like their waist is ten inches wider than it actually is and that they took two pairs of Grandma Jeans and sewed them together.


Please note: This model’s stats indicate that she has a 25” waist. Twenty-five inches. Which means that an actual human would look like the Michelin Man wrapped in shop towels if they attempted to wear this.

4. The “I might’ve just gotten attacked by a zombie…or maybe a melon baller” shirt.


Button-up shirts were not meant to have shoulder cut-outs. It’s just weird made weirder still when in denim. And the gathering at the bottom-most point of the peek-a-boos look like a fitted sheet. And we all know that everyone hates dealing with fitted sheets.

Don’t wear a fitted sheet.

5. The Pocketless Jean Jort.


Oh wait. That’s not from HauteLook, is it?


(And whoever that is has a ridiculously messy living room.)

But you can’t say he’s not selling his product…


I mean, if you can runway spin a jean jort, what level of confidence might you have in a tux?


And really, who doesn’t love a good elastic waistband during the holidays?


Okay, okay. Jorts can stay.


But the rest must go.

The Emperor’s New Mom Jeans.

I wrote my first jeans post in 2009 – more as a humor piece than fashion statement, but it did have some valid advice. I readily admit that some of the information in that post is outdated, no longer accurately expresses my opinion about certain items (such as skinny jeans), and that certain items have actually gotten much more stylishly cut since the publishing of that article (again, such as skinny jeans.) Even my more popular 2012 post, which is still traveling circles around the internet, has some outdated information that I sometimes have to apologize for.


I hereby swear to you with one virtual hand on Bible Gateway that there is one issue I will never waiver on, regardless of the winds of change, regardless of the pressures of society.

Long Butt is NOT okay. Nor is it ever necessary.

I spent over 2,000 words proving that Long Butt is a side effect of bad jeans, not actually of a literal long butt. And now fashion is trying to convince us that Mom Jeans and therefore Long Butts are “coming back in style” – I get sent at least one article a week stating this, always shared with me from some horrified soul.

Mom Jeans Are Back In Sadness

Do not believe the hype.

Do not fall victim to the advertisements.

We must stand.

We must fight.

We must not falter.

Our butts are depending on us. And our daughter’s butts after us. And their daughter’s butts after them.

But sometimes, the attacks are so ridiculous they’re fantastic. Which is what I bring you today.

A high-end New York-based store, going by the name “What Goes Around Comes Around,” is taking vintage Levi’s (of the old-style Mom-Jeans variety), dyeing them, sometimes cutting them off, and then selling them. for over two hundred dollars.


I mean at least pull out the model’s wedgie before taking the photo.

I became aware of this line through my go-to jeans app, HauteLook, who desperately tried to accessorize-up these frightening creations to help the sale-job they were trying to make.


Three-foot zipper…check.

Leg openings big enough for four…check.

Fringe that looks like you might have been involved in a heavy machinery accident…check.

Photo-shopping the model’s belly-button up a foot or two…check.


Sometimes they didn’t even bother to dye the material a cool color. This pair came straight out of my brother’s 1988 closet. AND ONE LEG IS SIGNIFICANTLY LONGER THAN THE OTHER.


Two hundred dollars, people.

Two. Hundred. Dollars.

You can tell the above tortured denim was originally a male pair of jeans because it doesn’t have the horrific elbow-pocket that Levi’s always felt the need to add to ladies’ jeans – you know, because we do love a good, wide hipline. Like this jewel.


And there’s nothing that says “I lost my butt in a fight with the neighbor’s dog” like wearing your Dad’s jeans from 1995.



Or 1984.


So clearly this is an exaggerated example. And no, not all Levi’s (or even men’s jeans on women) are bad.

All I ask that you take away from this is:

1. Not every trend is a good one – don’t believe all fashion hype, and especially not name brand designers and stores – sometimes they smoke crack.
2. Avoid elbow-pocket. And airport-hangar leg openings.
3. If you want them, you can have high-waisted jeans without Long Butt. They are out there. Find them. 4. There is no way that a zipper as long as your thigh could possibly be necessary on any body or in any pant.


That is all.