Alert: Fashion Trends
©2008, 2016 By Raymond Alexander Kukkee
The Union Jack -Red White and Blue
Fashion Trends, Red, White and Blue
I keep my eye on fashion trends. You learn the most amazing things. I won’t admit you see any, but that’s for my personal safety, you understand.
“Well, doesn’t that latest fashion just take the cake?” my beautiful brown-eyed wife asked, stressing the “that“. I detected her voice was just a tad huffy , with maybe a pinch of sarcasm as we observed a rather curvy female edition of College Plumber’s-Bum race pass us in the crowded mall. A moment later, a slightly younger clone, a second edition, talking on a cell, also hurried past. “Everyone’s in such a hurry” I thought to myself.
I wondered why she was in such a rush, but it soon became obvious . The first one was chatting on her little cell phone, and she suddenly stopped, turned and waited for the second version of the same astonishing example of modern fashion trends to catch up.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Some men are not only observant but lucky. To be skillful enough to observe fashion trends, I mean. bTo remain dignified in observing contemporary fashion trends, however, perhaps one must define lucky as wearing corrective eyeglasses at the right time and place.
No matter. Fashion is what it is.
The two identical red thongs were showing four inches above the the blue-jean belt-lines, which were dropped almost to the point of suspended animation, far below the hip bones.
The girls were both model tall, with long legs all the way to the outskirts of Regina. Little was left for an experienced imagination— or one sufficiently versed in current trends of high fashion.
“Imagine that, ” I replied, trying not to watch them too seriously, ” that’s the icing and the cake too, but I suppose it’s a high fashion trend“.
“It looks more like it will be low fashion soon, they’re both going to fall off any time now.”
“Not with those curves to navigate” I said. “Besides, there’s always two-sided tape, you told me that yourself.”
“That’s for booby control “ she said. “Better not look at those any more” she suddenly warned, jabbing me with her elbow.
“Avert your eyes, fool . They heard you.” I looked just in time.
The girls turned around , glanced and giggled, rushing off. Being admittedly male but also honest, I must admit I had to squint hard and rubberneck quite a lot to see those thongs disappear into the crowd around the corner to the nearest sale.
I sighed resignedly. ” Sex sells fashion, no doubt about it, how very sad”, I said to maintain and promote my inborn sense of purpose and dignity. “A misappropriation of human dignity.” I added out loud.
“There’s a fashion sale on”. I changed the subject but I looked to see if I could get a second glance as we passed the crowded storefront. No such luck. We proceeded further down the mall.
“Fashions are sure changing” I said, staying right on subject.
“Fonzie , —you know, the Fonze, and Richie Cunningham back on “Happy Days” most certainly did not have any problem like that to deal with. They weren’t forced see stuff like we are today, they didn’t have to follow girls like that around the mall to study them, —meantime trying to pretend they were civilized, did they? They had real plaid skirts to admire back in those days instead.”
“Those boys were born too soon, that’s what I always say.” I added, pausing to reflect. “Wasn’t much to look at.” I said.
“You can always count on plaid, it’s dignified, much more dignified than blue jeans, I would say . Even those burlap sack dresses and plaid wraps with the big safety pins, remember those, they were at least dignified, not like those two. -And midi’s too, they looked nice, and dignified and respectable, they looked respectable, don’t you think?” she asked, looking at a stuffed teddy-bear and squeezing his nose. “Nice and soft” she said.
“No, but women’s legs look like skinny sticks in midi’s, and anyway, fashions now are more interesting, —and who said fashion has ever been dignified anyway? ” I asked, maintaining a mental note of the direction the high fashion girls had gone. That is, the route taken by the fleeing female flirts of fashion. Or was it those fleeing, flirty felons of fashion, I wondered . I almost got lost thinking about that. I blinked.
“Those two would be considered cougars, flippin’ felines of fashion if they were older, dear, if they were closer to my age” she said..
“You better stick with me, hon, you wouldn’t be safe by yourself here, I can see that. You’re not safe here by yourself, I’m not letting you out of my sight today.”
I shook my head. How does that woman read my mind? I wondered. She almost got it right that time too. She always reads my mind and saves me from the intricacies of high fashion and the temptations of all contemporary Eves at the same time. She’s a clever girl.
“Women’s fashions are dictated by whatever makes the most money” she said. “And sex, too, sex on demand, everything is sex, —or has to be sexy on demand, think that’s a coincidence?”
I did not answer. Some comments are best kept clammed up about. She was still talking.
“Men design everything, they change styles at will, establish the fashion trends, and we women are supposed to go along with whatever they dictate, is that fair?”
“It doesn’t matter how short, tall, skinny or fat we are. It doesn’t matter how old we are. They tell us what to wear, hems up, skirts up, hems down, blue-jeans with holes in the knees, anyplace you please, rips, tears, fall colours, spring creations, belts, accessories, and high style thongs that …well, you know, —and look you’re —you’re married, you’re not even supposed to look at those.”
I told her I try hard not to stare. Everyone knows that. “I try hard not to stare, everyone knows that “, I said, smiling. She didn’t believe me, not for a second. I pretended to look again anyway, just to keep her on her toes. She really doesn’t mind if I look. Maybe.
She says I’m always testing the waters, like any good Black Lab Retriever.
“You’re an old goat” the wife said. “Anyway, you can’t judge fashion, you have no sense of fashion at all. Anyone that wears a brown belt with black shoes is an old goat and completely lacks qualifications to define —and most certainly must not judge fashion.”
“Trends are changing, woman, we must too” I said. “For self-preservation.” I added. She laughed. I call her “woman” as a term of endearment. Always have.
“That’s why the dinosaurs went extinct, self-preservation. Look at all the fossils, it’s well-preserved, they are.”
“Show me something you consider fashionable” she challenged, turning around and walking backwards in front of me, smiling and blocking my view.
“Well, okay.” I said, looking around suspiciously. I thought it was a trap.
There wasn’t a fashionable woman in sight. How typical. Two sixty-five year old dowagers with baby-blue wide-brimmed hats the size of Mexican sombreros, dark blue silk scarves, thick glasses and thicker makeup and bright orange lipstick approached. Neither one was over five feet tall but both wore wide, horizontal stripes. Not dresses. Jump suits. Red. With red, white and blue striped shoes.
“There’s real fashion for you “ I whispered. ” They must be twins. “
“If this was London the fire crews would be trying to hook up water hoses to them.” she said, whispering back and giggling. The ladies passed.
“Hello, Hello,” they said in unison. Their accents were indeed British. The wife giggled again.
High fashion, I said to myself. That’s it. I noticed one of the ladies had a shoulder-strapped purse with a large Union Jack on it. That’s the flag of Great Britain to anyone who is flag-challenged.
“That’s it, that’s what you call perfectly accessorized” I said. “That’s fashionable“. I said. Proudly. “See?”
“Red, white and blue, just like they are.”
“Wrong blue, but you’re almost right, their scarves match, so —that’s not so bad for an old goat after all.”
She turned and laughed and pointed. “High fashion alert!“.
The two pretty little college plumber-bums came into sight, approaching us.
“When they pass us, don’t even turn around to look at them at risk of death or uncivilized dismemberment ” she warned.
“Not me”, I said. “I know when I’ve seen enough fashion trends for one day.”
She squeezed my hand. “Good, now my fashion expert can take me out to dinner.”
Is that Incoming I hear?
tags: #fashion trends, #alerts , #fiction, #humor #lifestyle