1 June 2005 - quarter past eight o'clock

Okay, my final thoughts on lo-rise jeans. Personally, I think they're hideous. But then, I'm sure most folk think the way I dress is hideous, what with the all black and the long sleeves all year round, the thick-rimmed glasses and clunky footwear that worn together never screamed nerd and witch more in unison until Harry Potter debuted. Different strokes for different folks, right? Whatever makes you happy. Which brings me to my point: that the vast majority I've seen of these lo-rise fashion victims are so clearly unhappy with their gear. If you're comfortable and confident in your lo-rise jeans and midi top with that innertube of adipose fluff billowing overboard, more power to you. That kind of easy attitude is what makes you beautiful. Hell, it even makes your gut look kind of cute.

I saw that, once. The girl was a train wreck, but I'll tell you she had captured the eye of every person who passed her by, and -- whether it was for all the wrong reasons or not -- she was obviously enjoying the attention.

But I'm not talking about her. Whether it's because she was clueless or cunning, she has earned my permission to flaunt her stuff, however hideously she chooses to adorn it. No, what I'm talking about is every other girl who slavishly obeys the dominating trend without consideration to whether it is appropriate for her. And every time I see these kids running around in their ugly, ill-fitting, badly tailored, cheaply made, sweatshop-produced, mall-sold lo-risers, they're doing the same thing. Tug, tug, tug. Tugging the jeans up, tugging the blouses down. Trying to cover that 2-inch strip or so of naked skin the jeans were designed to flaunt. They're uncomfortable. They're insecure. They feel vulnerable.

Fashion. Victim.