LMNOP

On the whole, I think that the people in this world could stand to dress a hell of a lot better; however, I will concede that there can be value and even charm in the way some fashion victims operate.  Case in point: old people.  Sure, they wear some truly ridiculous outfits, but you can't really hate on them because you know they don't give a shit. I am perfectly OK with someone who says, "You know what?  I was raised during the Depression.  I fought in World War II.  I raised three kids who now have good jobs and kids of their own.  I have nothing to prove to anyone, and if I feel like wearing liederhosen and a feathered cap, then dammit, THAT'S WHAT I'M GOING TO WEAR." 

Go for it, gramps.  I got nothin' but love for ya, and my guess is that nine out of every 10 people who read this would tend to agree.  You've earned the right to wear whatever the hell you want. 

In fashion, as with writing (and pretty much any creative discipline), special license is granted to those who have proven their worth.  In this way, feathered-cap-man's outfit is the fashion equivalent of an E.E. Cummings poem (sidenote: apparently you're supposed to capitalize his name?   I thought that wasn't the hip thing to do--can someone who majored in English or Being a Loser please shed some light on that?).

But we are all familiar with the problem this creates; in the academic world,  visionaries constitute about .000000000000001% of the population, and for every one of them there are about 45 million people who just think they can get away with shit that they really can't.  This is also a problem in the fashion world, where the number of people who legitimately deserve a pass because they are old or special or advocating a cause are far outweighed by the number of unspectacular people with false senses of entitlement that cause them to somehow think that there is SOMETHING in this universe, although I can't imagine what it would possibly be, that gives them a right to wear green jeans. 

I'm not as irritated by the misguided poet who thinks he's the next Cummings or the artist who thinks he's a genius, though, as I am by the person wearing green jeans.  Some loser can sit in his room all day writing poems and it doesn't affect me one bit.  But the person in the green jeans?  She's making it everyone's problem, and that's not fair. When I'm standing in line at CVS behind the man in the mesh top (why??) or the woman who woke up this morning and was OK with donning a tank top so unflatteringly tight that her back/arm fat is bursting out for all to see and even the parts of her that are somehow covered by her top appear to be putting so much stress on the fabric that I am physically stressed out at the prospect of having to know what I will do in the event that her shirt actually does give up and rip open--do you stay and pay? Do you just leave? Do you help? I don't know how I would help--well, when I am standing behind such people, I am being confronted against my will by images and thoughts that I shouldn't have to deal with.  And that's not fair.  And you can tell me that life's not fair, but you know what?  Life doesn't come with free green jeans either, but some people manage to make it look that way.  So shut up.