Fashion Avenger

Dear Woman I Saw On The Stairs Transferring Between The DLR And Northern Line at Bank Station On Sunday,

I'd like to share something with you, if I may. In 1990, I was in the seventh grade. As I'm sure you're aware the pre-teen years are often not kind to girls, fashion wise. Not only did we all love New Kids On The Block, perms and super hairsprayed bangs, but we all either pinned or rolled our trousers.

See, the fashion at the time was to either fold in and roll the cuff of your jeans or trousers tight against your ankle, or pin your trousers, either just at the ankle or from the ankle to mid-calf.

You've got to keep in mind that this was 1990. The fashion was not for tight jeans. It was for baggy jeans. Baggy, pleated, often highly patterned jeans. So, this rolling or pinning created an upsetting effect that flattered no one.

We also wore them with slouch socks, often more than one pair, that we'd colour coordinate to our outfits.

It wasn't a good look. But, in my defense, it was 1990, and I was twelve. I've learned a lot since then.

Do you see what I'm trying to tell you?

Because I'm trying to understand why you were rocking this look last Sunday. In 2007. When you were older than twelve.

I actually did a triple take when I saw your trousers. "Nice colour", I thought. "What the? No, I must have seen that wrong, " I thought. "Nope, didn't see that wrong. What the HELL?", I thought again.

Perfectly fine khaki trousers, ruined by being skin tight from the ankle to the knee, creating a very unfortunate jodhpur effect. I couldn't tell whether you'd modified them, or if they were designed that way. But, you know what? It doesn't matter.

Why, why, why? Why???

I already lived through this look once. I've dealt with a lot of unfortunate looks from my childhood becoming fashionable again, but I'm damned if I'm going to deal with this again.

Get it together lady. I'm not going to re-live the early nineties again. Buy some new trousers.

For all of us.

All the best,
Alice

Fashion Avenger

Dear Woman Who Was Sitting Across From Me On The Victoria Line Last Night,

I kind of don't know where to start here.

I think that you're trying to be kooky. That your carefully cultivated persona is that of "kooky girl". But not just any kooky girl. Kooky girl who likes Tigger.

Now, I understand this. Who doesn't like Tigger? I'm more of an Eeyore girl, myself, but to each his own. But ... how to put this?

It's one thing to be five years old and insist that Tigger is on every item of your clothing. It's charming in a five year old. My cousin used to insist that ketchup was on every single thing she ate. It was cute. If she was still doing that now, seventeen years later? Not charming.

What's cute in a five year old is rarely cute in an adult.

And you, dear lady on the Victoria Line, you are an adult. You are too old to be wearing, in a single outfit, the following: Tigger socks, a Tigger t-shirt and a denim handbag with a pink sparkly drawing of Tigger on it. It's not kooky. It's weird.

The socks on their own with a pair of jeans and a normal shirt? Sure, why not. Wacky socks are kind of 1995, but they're essentially inoffensive.

The t-shirt with jeans and unnoticeable socks and a normal bag? Less acceptable, but I'd give it a pass. For all I know, it could be laundry day and this was the last clean shirt you had. I probably wouldn't even notice.

The bag on its own? Could easily be ironic and would therefore perfectly acceptable.

The whole deal together? Oh sweetie, no.

You don't look kooky. You look crazy. You look like a grown woman who is obsessed with a children's cartoon character. You look like you might easily have twenty eight ginger cats at home, and you might call them your babies and they might all be named Tigger.

Do you want to be that lady?

Remember - kooky in moderation is a good thing. And, hey. It could have been worse. You could have been wearing Tigger earrings and a Tigger jacket as well.

Good luck. If you need it, I'm sure there's some kind of 12 step Tigger addiction program you can join.

All the best,

Alice

Fashion Avenger: Barcelona Edition

Dear People of Barcelona, Both Residents And Tourists,

Hi there! How y'all doing? It was super to see you all when I was in Barcelona last weekend. Wasn't the weather nice? And yes, I did get a bit of a sunburn, thanks for pointing that out. I did forget that you can burn when it's cloudy, it's true.

But we're not here to talk about me, are we? No. No, we are not.

I can't address all of the issues that we encountered on my trip, but there are a few of you that I wanted to speak to. And yes, I'm sure you know who you are.

Girl wearing the asymmetrical short stripey skirt with black checked patterned tights and white flats? Yeah, what the hell were you thinking? Do your friends hate you? Did you lose a bet? Are you actively trying to repel guys? You didn't really think this was a good look, did you?

Lady wearing the white macrame-type top with a skirt that looked like a jean miniskirt with more white macrame-type crap hanging down to your ankles? First of all, ew. I'm really really hoping this was a holiday look, and you don't actually wear this crap in public in a town in which you know people. Because they must be so embarrassed for you, and I don't want that for them. They've done nothing wrong.

Woman with the too-tight jeans/crop top combo with quite a fair bit of stomach bulge hanging out? Look, I don't mean to be cruel, but the size that you think you are? Is not the size that you are. And I really don't want to hurt your feelings, because I'm sure if you dressed in clothes that were the right size, you'd be all cute and stuff. But as is, you made me turn away from my giant beer to comment "sweet mother of god, did you see that?" to my friend, and it wasn't in the good way, if you know what I'm saying.

Lady wearing see-through plastic stiletto heels for a day of tourist type activities? Just FYI, those shoes make you look like a whore. It's 3pm and you're in line for a cable car. More of a "daytime" look is really appropriate here. Your whoreish-ness is scaring the children. You can't tone it down for the day? Seriously?

I know I seem like I'm being a bit harsh on the ladies, but there are just so many more ways you can go wrong in women's fashion. And, oh people of Barcelona, so many of you were getting it so wrong. Now, that's not to say that all of you were badly dressed. Lots of you looked perfectly fine. And you're a lesson to those who persist in wearing clothes that make me want to poke my own eyes out with a fork to prevent myself from having to look at them.

Let's just hope that lesson gets learned.

Come on, Barcelona. I've got faith in you. You can do better. I know you can.

Love,
Alice

Fashion Avenger

Dear Skanky Girl I Saw In Holborn On Saturday Night,

Oh, sweet mother of god. That's it. You've done it. You've won the prize.

You are, without a doubt, the owner of the skankiest outfit I've ever seen. And that's saying an awful lot.

I'm trying to find the good points, so that I can give you a vague, halfhearted compliment before insulting you, but I can't. Okay, your t-shirt was fine. Plain white t-shirt. That's okay.

But the short shorts?

With knee high boots?

In August?

Are you kidding me?

Maybe you just saw "Dukes of Hazzard". Maybe you're all inspired by Jessica Simpson and decided that fake tanning yourself to a frightening orange hue wasn't the way forward for you. But the Daisy Dukes with knee high boots?

Are you a hooker?

If you are, then that's okay. I can see that working. Because it's skanky and hookers are supposed to be skanky. That's okay.

Dear lord, it was just awful. I'm very sad for you right now.

I don't even have words of advice. Just stop. That's all. Just stop.

Good luck,

Alice

Fashion Avenger

Dear People of London,

Hey, isn't this hot weather great? Remember last year, when it rained all summer? Didn't that suck? And isn't all this sun and hot weather nice?

I know there can be downsides to the weather though. It can be too hot to sleep at night. Offices don't have air conditioning and it can get all hot and sweaty at work. You can get sunburned if you're not careful in the sun.

The weather's still nice though, isn't it?

But you know what's not so nice?

Summer "fashions". People of London - why are you doing this to me? I know it's hot, and I know you're uncomfortable and sweaty and miserable.

I know all of this. I know this because I feel the same way. I get grumpy when I'm overheated, the same way you do.

But you know what I don't do? I don't wear hideous clothing designed to reveal as much of the human body as possible, and designed to singe the retinas of anyone who looks upon it.

I don't really understand what makes a sensible dresser give in to the impulse to wear unattractive skimpy clothing. Has the heat affected your sense of style? Did the high temperature kill off the part of your brain that registers good and bad taste?

And you know, it's not just the larger of you Londoners who is committing these fashion atrocities. It's not about size, people. It's about taste. And it's about not wanting to send you all home to change, because does your mother know you leave the house looking like that?

It's just that here's the thing. You don't need to be practically naked to stay cool in the heat. A nice roomy linen item of clothing is going to do the trick just as well.

Wear what you want in your own house. I mean, what I'm wearing right now isn't attractive, but I'm not making you look at it, am I? When you're out on the street, try to have some consideration for those around you. Don't make us look at that.

Come on, people of London. I know we can make this work if we try.

Good luck,

Alice

Fashion Avenger

Dear Woman Sarah & I Saw In The Pub Last Weekend,

Look, we’ve all been there. The unexpected arrival of gorgeous spring weather takes you by surprise, and you’re forced to trawl through last year’s spring and summer wardrobe for something that is both weather appropriate and cute.

But, the thing is, when most people do this, it’s the wardrobe from last year that they’re looking at. Not their wardrobe from 1734. Because that’s where you seem to have pulled this ... interesting ... number from.

Over a frosty cool Sunday beverage, Sarah and I had a bit of a discussion on the look you were aiming for. Sarah’s first thought was Ophelia, while I was leaning more towards Anne of Green Gables’ version of “The Lady of Shalott”. Normally you wouldn't have elicited such discussion, but a floor length, white, high-necked, long-sleeved, lacy cotton dress is not the kind of thing you expect to see in a pub on a Sunday afternoon.

Sarah finally hit on the best description for your look, though, when she came up with Miss Havisham. Or, to be slightly more accurate, Miss Havisham’s slightly more deranged bridesmaid.

You were probably just thinking that the dress was nice and breezy. Hell, maybe you were even thinking that it looks nice.

But do you really want strangers in a pub having lengthy discussions about which fictional character you are? Especially when those fictional characters are insane? Probably not.

The whole pseudo-Victorian thing is so not a good look for you, honey. Trust me.

Better luck next time,

Alice

Fashion Avenger

Dear Lady I Stood Behind On The Escalator At Angel Station,

Sweet mother of god.

Do you hate me? Are you out to get me? Are you just angry at the world? Do you not own a mirror? Are you on a mission to alienate the whole world? Do you not feel a little breezy?

Because here’s the thing. You have a massive hole in your jeans. Actually, that’s not true. You have several massive holes in your jeans. Normally, I would not have a problem with this. You’re entitled to wear ripped jeans. I find it refreshingly casual. It’s clearly your look, and you’re making it work.

Or so I thought. I thought you were making it work until I was standing directly behind you on the escalator at Angel tube station. As you well know, the escalator at Angel is a very long, steep, scary one. And normally, I would be reading the adverts along the wall, and trying not to think about how easily I could plummet to my death if even one person faltered and sent us on a domino-like descent. But what was I thinking about on this particular escalator journey?

Your ass.

And why was I thinking about your ass? Because it was right in my face.

Here’s a tip for you. If you wear jeans with a massive hole in the ass, you might want to think about wearing underwear.

Sweet mother of god.

I did not need to know that much about you. I really didn’t.

Seriously. M&S. Just think about it.

Best wishes,

Alice

Fashion Avenger

Dear Lady I Saw On Tottenham Court Road On A Lovely Spring Day,

Oh no. Oh, sweetie. Honey. Darling. Angel. Petal. No. No, no, no, no, no. Just no.

I have to let you know. I winced when I saw you on the street. And you just do not want to be making random strangers wince when they see you. You really don’t.

I think I see what you were aiming for here. You were thinking “Gosh, it’s a lovely spring like day! I think I’ll wear a mini skirt!” And I like that thinking. It’s sassy and springlike. You know what is not sassy and springlike? The horrible mistake just south of your lovely mini skirt.

Your fun green and white striped shirt and khaki skirt combo was quite delightful, and while not quite my personal style, it was a nice look. Preppy, yet cute. Your opaque tights, however? No. Especially not in green. Green. Opaque. Tights. Oooooooh, no. I just don’t think so.

Actually, I take that back. You could have made that work. I think that if you’d gone with a simple and neutral ballet flat or kicky kitten heel it could have been a creative look. But oh, no. You had to be “wacky”, didn’t you? You had to be “outrageous” and “fun”. And so what did you team with your green striped shirt and green tights? Oh, that’s right. Green trainers**. And you know what that is? Too. Much. Green.

I assume that you are not a Crazy All One Colour Lady. Because I could get behind that lady. She’s crazy! And she has a mission! She only wears blue! Or purple! She’s super fun and I support her enthusiasm. Sadly, you are not that lady. You are a lady who thought “hey, it’s all green! That must mean it matches, yes?”

And that is where you made your tragic mistake. Because “green” is not that easy. There are what we call “shades” of colours. And they don’t necessarily go with each other. For example, a purpley-blue does not necessarily match a greeny-blue.

I know this seems complicated. But just trust me. There can be too much of a good thing.

Just try and tone down the all-one-colour, okay? Because if I see this on the street again, I’ll have to give you the dreaded double wince. And do you really want that?I thought not.

Best of luck,

Alice

** As I now live in the UK, I will be using the British “trainer” rather than the North American “sneaker”. Please don’t be confused.

Fashion Avenger

Dear Joan Jett Look-Alike on the Northern Line,

I have something to tell you. It may be upsetting, but I really think it’s best that you know now that you look silly. I’m really just hoping that you can minimise your embarrassment.

You have a Joan Jett haircut. Circa 1985. Sweetie, you’re around fifteen years old. You probably don’t even know who Joan Jett is. You weren’t even born in 1985. You were born in about 1990. That upsets me, because it makes me feel old, but that’s not really your concern. You concern should be that you have silly hair.

I know what you’re going to say. You’re “rock”. You’re “retro”. You’re “individual”. You’re “just being you”.

I don’t mean to be cruel, but those are stupid reasons. You’re not being individual. You’re being manipulated by a hairdresser with too much time on her hands. This woman is obviously sadistic and somewhat evil, and you really need to keep your distance. I can only hope you didn’t pay too much for your silly, silly hair.

If only I could put a dime in the jukebox, baby, and turn back time to get you a better haircut. But, sadly, I can’t. I’m sure you’re a rock chick. I’m sure you are. I saw your friends, and I see your need to differentiate yourself from their bland girl band same-y trendiness. I get that. I’m pickin’ up what you’re puttin’ down.

But, sweetie. Really. There are so, so many far, far, far less painful ways to do that.

I approve of your need to be individual. I think it’s fab. And, so I’m not going to make any suggestions for your new look.

Okay, that’s totally not true. I’m going to make one suggestion. Get a new hairdresser.

Good luck, sweetie. I’m sure you’re going to be a super stylin’ vixen when you grow up. Just consider this a failed attempt. We all make mistakes. Better luck next time.

Good luck,

Alice

Fashion Avenger #2

Dear Lady I Saw At Oxford Circus The Other Day:

Hi there. I don't mean to be rude, but I just had to say something. You probably didn't notice me. I was standing beside your friend outside of Shelly's waiting for my friend. As I was browsing in the window and checking my phone to see why she was late (LATE!), you turned up to meet your friend. You did the London kiss-kiss hello and headed inside the shop. As you were going in, your friend made the following upsetting comment: "I really like your new haircut".

Now, normally this comment wouldn't be worth a second thought. People get their hair cut. Other people comment. Such is life. This was a little bit different, though.

I don't want to be the one to tell you this, but someone has to. She was lying. I know this because you had a Fe-mullet. Also known as a mullet, hockey hair or the Goderich haircut. I'm not sure what you were trying to convey with this look. I don't think it was the traditional "business up front, party in the back" attitude, because you weren't a pseudo rockin' business man in the late '80s. You were a fashionable woman of the new millennium. You know, except for your disastrous hair.

Maybe you were going for a so-hip-it-hurts kind of look. And sure, why wouldn't you? You're a hip young woman of the new millennium. The rest of your outfit? Totally cute. Only this is the thing. Your hair looks awful.

Are you in a metal band in 1987? Are you trying to recapture your childhood by getting the haircut that your mother would never let you have? Was it a dare? Is your hairdresser out to get you? Did you steal her boyfriend or burn down her house? Did you hear Do They Know It's Christmas for the millionth time and it sent you over the edge? Are you clinically insane? Did you have to sell your hair to a wig maker like Jo in Little Women to make money to support your family while your father was fighting in the Civil War, but you only sold part of it?

I really think you should do something about this. The solution is obvious. Cut the rest off. You'll have a super cute pixie cut and I won't feel the need to cry if I ever see you again in the street.

I wish you a lot of luck with this. I'm sure you'll realize the error of your ways. You just need people to stop being polite. Trust me. No one thinks it's a cute look. No one.

Good luck, and have a Merry Christmas,

Alice

Fashion Avenger #1

Dear Man I Saw On The Way To Work This Morning,

Look, I know that we don’t know each other, and I really have no business sticking my nose into your business, but there’s something pretty important that I feel I have to tell you.There’s no nice way to say this, but it’s about your jeans. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but they’re turquoise. Turquoise.

Seriously, what’s up with that?

I can kind of see how it might have happened – you’re cleaning out a wardrobe and find a pair of jeans you’ve forgotten about. You think “hey, these still fit! Great!”, and you proceed to make them a part of your wardrobe.

Now, that would be fine under normal circumstances. We’ve all done that – just the other day, I found a great black sweater that I’d forgotten about. But these are not normal circumstances. These are turquoise jeans circumstances. And, you may be shocked to find, it is not 1987. You’re not co-starring in a teen movie with Corey Haim or Emilio Estevez. You’re not in a wacky sitcom about an alien moving into your house, or a drama about being an undercover narcotics agent. You are not in the New Kids On The Block. You, sir, are no Joey MacIntyre.

You are a middle aged man. It is 2004, and you’re walking down the street at 10:30 on a Sunday morning. And you’re wearing turquoise jeans.

I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I really am. I want to believe that you’re just running to the shop to buy your girlfriend breakfast. Although, I have to believe that if you had a girlfriend, she wouldn’t let you leave the house looking like that. Or, maybe you’re colour blind. But again, someone should have some kind of colour veto on your wardrobe if that’s the case. I’m getting distracted. The point is, I want to believe that the turquoise jeans are a mistake. A one-off. That it’s something that won’t happen again.

I can’t quite convince myself, though. You looked more like you were off for a day in town, or something of the like. And if that was the case, I think you probably looked in a mirror before you left the house.

And if so, I just wanted to write to tell you that it’s not okay. I know fashion can be hard. But you don’t need to read magazines, or watch Queer Eye, or anything elaborate like that. You just need to have a little common sense.

You’ll be fine as long as you put the turquoise jeans where they belong. In the garbage. No, I know that you’re thinking. Don’t make the mistake of giving them to a charity shop. You’ll just be putting some other poor soul in the same position that you’re in right now. And if I get blinded by these jeans again on the street, I’m going to be pretty annoyed with you.

I know you can do it. Good luck.

Best wishes,

Alice

P.S. We’ll talk about the green loafers next time.