IF OUR MAIN gripe about guys’ fashion this past decade (per last week’s column) is that everyone was overly manic about hipster mania, then our biggest complaint for women is that they all too frequently confused “stylish” with “slovenly” (and, sometimes, “skanky”). The rise of Juicy Couture track suits — the clingy, candy-hued ensembles that, somehow, appealed to both aunt Rhonda in south Florida and Paris Hilton — helped usher in a new era of unsightly errors, from “whale tails” (the official term for the unfortunate, and usually intentional, combination of thong underpants and low-rise jeans) to the “boho” look, best represented by diaphanous dresses topped off with enormous sunglasses and the biggest latte money can buy.
Most of these fads have fizzled out, replaced — thank you, “Mad Men” and Michelle O. — with shapely silhouettes and manageable coffees. Only clunky, chunky Uggs still persevere, prompting us to imagine a scenario far in the future, when a grandchild curls up on our lap and asks, “Grandma, tell us again about when it was cool to walk around looking like you stuck two loaves of bread on your feet?”
Photo by Julia Ewan/The Washington Post