Most years, I’ll get Melissa a pair of slacks or three for work. Maybe Victoria’s Secret, maybe Ann Taylor — nothing too fancy or dressy, but comfy and sharp. This year, the poor catalog models mostly look like they were forced to put on the bottom half of David Byrne’s Big Suit from “Stop Making Sense.”
What is it about the Seventies — the ugliest decade in American history — that they keep coming back? It’s the Dracula Decade, I swear. Well, call me Van Helsing (the Peter Cushing version, please) because I refuse to play. I will not be buying any big pants, this year or ever.
Please, for the sake of everything that is pretty and good, you should do the same.