Knock Me Off

There has been a lot of press in the past few weeks about designer knockoffs. Apparently designers are trying to get their clothing copyrighted to prevent people from buying almost the exact same thing for 1/3 of the price at places like Forever 21 (brilliantly referred to as Forever 31 by my friend Jami). A recent article in the Times showed a Stella McCartney dress next to an identical article of clothing that was on sale for $35 at Forever 21. I imagine most people reacted the way I did when I saw the picture: I ran out to Forever 21 and bought the dress because, wait, it's like identical and also, it's $35 which means you can wear it once and then use it for cleaning out the litter box.

As someone with absolutely no expertise in the world of high fashion, I think I'm entitled to weigh in on the controversy simply because, um, I wear clothes. From my point of view the issue is entirely a class issue - people who pay $1800 for a sweater don't want to see some plebeian coming out of the subway wearing the same item of clothing.

Now here's the thing: I would definitely save up money and shell out for a few pieces of designer items if there was any guarantee that I might be able to wear them for more than a few seasons. But what's the point of buying a pricey baby doll dress or designer skinny black jeans or really expensive brown chunky boots when next year people are going to be wearing mu mus or baggy green jeans or whatever?

Which is why I'm proud to spend my money on cheap clothing that will fall apart after a few washings. That, and I'm pretty much only wearing those clothes to the playground and back.

The Problem With Crocs

Milo and I were taking a pre-dinner walk/run/yelp around the block when we passed by a woman coming the other direction.

"OH MY GOD," the woman yelled as Milo screeched past her. "I have those exact same shoes."

She pointed to the orange blur that was Milo's Crocs.

"I have the same shoes as a one-year-old," the woman said. "Something is not right here."

"He's almost two," I said. What I wanted to say was: yes, something is very wrong with your shoe choice.

More Evidence That The People Who Design Clothes Hate Women

Summer is here and I have no clothing. What in hell did I wear last summer? So I surfaced in SoHo from the fashion-exile that is Park Slope only to discover that this summer big floofy dresses with no waist are in style. And also dresses with hemlines approximately three centimeters from where your underwear starts. So your choices are, look like you are pregnant/concealing a small armada, or look like someone trying desperately to recapture the five minutes when you were 15 and had no cellulite.


Why, fashion industry, WHY?? Not fair not fair not fair.


Steven and I joined a gym about a month ago and quite frankly, I'm in good shape right now. My arms are toned, and I've even gotten rid of as much post-pregnancy stomach pooch as I probably could ever hope to without plastic surgery. So for the love of all that is holy, give me something I can wear!

I've seen women walking around in these dresses, and no one looks good in them. Super-skinny girls look even more board-shaped, and girls with boobs look like ... um .. what's a nice word for bloated?

So women of America, unite! Do not give in to the tyranny of the fashion world! Burn your floofy dresses. Storm into J. Crew or Banana Republic or whatever mall is closest to you and scream at the top of your lungs: "I am a woman and I have a waist!". That'll show them.