Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Go Fug Myself

For my money, one of the wittiest websites out there -- the kind guaranteed to make you laugh hysterically and thus destroy any pretense that you are, in fact, reading the top stories on CNN -- is Go Fug Yourself. It's written by two twenty-something women who, essentially, articulately mock the outfits of the rich and famous. I've long wanted to do a riff on this website using my own questionable fashion history as material, and, finally, here it is. Call it a birthday present to myself, in celebration of the fact that I no longer make fashion faux pas with such astonishing regularity.

I must start with a disclaimer: I will be mocking the clothes, for the most part. It goes without saying that my face and hair are generally regrettable from 1992 - 2000. Also, anyone who has doubted the legend of my unibrow is about to eat some serious crow.

Let's start off easy, with a little JonBenet Ramsey episode circa 1984:

I look -- if this is possible -- like a child drag queen prostitute from the Moulin Rouge. The rice paddy hat is a nice touch.

Now, on to my stint in Texas, Land of Spangles!

My sister Zoe, shown here celebrating her second birthday, is momentarily distracted from her present-opening by the glare coming off of the elastic-waisted, silk pioneer lampshade I have chosen to wear for the occasion.

My second grade school picture. I was in a club called the Mighty Mustangs due to good grades. I didn't have breasts yet, but I approximated their future location with multi-colored bows.

Once we moved back to New York, in the height of the 1980s, my fashion continued to dazzle:

( My shirt is making this baby cry.)

Note to self: standing in front of a Christmas tree rarely makes an outfit look better. Especially if you are wearing a sweater that looks like the "Ephalumps and Woozles" cartoon from Winnie the Pooh and the Very Blustery Day as interpreted by Picasso:

I really didn't want to include this next photo, but in the interest of full disclosure, I must. I want to start by saying that, in 1993, Blossom hats were in.

Ah, big tee shirts with leggings. You look good on no one. And yet, I wore you with such devotion. Oh how I used to love how you'd chop off my neck and make me look squat and portly! At least I matched the floral motif to my hat ... I need a drink.

In my defense, this was the day after I got dumped by my best friends in 7th grade. It happened in the girls' locker room and was highly traumatic. Therefore it is understandable that I would drown my sorrows entirely in denim. Hans Christian Andersen looks embarassed for me, though, doesn't he? And the icing on the cake is that the book I'm splayed across in all of my stonewashed glory is -- wait for it -- "The Ugly Duckling".
The only thing better than an oversized shirt with leggings is an oversized sweatshirt with leggings. You know it's true.

Oooooh, this one hurts. Really hurts. I think this outfit came about as a result of Reality Bites and too many issues of Sassy magazine:

If I were to go to a costume party dressed as 1994, this is what I'd wear. Oh, and the shoes you can't see? Doc Martens, baby.
I often come to work with wet hair. People ask me why I do this. I do this because I have seen what my hair looks like when I try to blow it dry:

Oh, don't look so pleased with yourself, missy. You may have plucked your unibrow and tamed your hair, but you look like you're eight months pregnant. Get a belt!

It is not advisable to bleach your hair while drunk in a foreign country. That is all.

The hat is a joke. The shirt is not. Look at Meredith, she's visibly pained. Also, hello thighs!

I could have posted a lot more, but I think this is all I can handle for today. I leave you with a true Kodak moment, one that I promised you long ago: my sister dressed in brown face as a Hershey's Kiss:
Couldn't you just die?



  1. Chicken tortilla soup just spurted from my nose. You are brilliant, and I love you.

  2. I distinctly remember the day in 8th grade that I went into moms desk, through all the family albums, into all of the big big boxes of photos and gathered all of the pictures of me age 11-13. They were burned in the bathroom sink along with my middleschool yearbook. I have the remains of the yearbook for proof. You got balls yo. Also you may look ridiculous but atleast you werent the one hoping to one day have a hat as cool as the one featured in the birthday picture. xox

  3. I'm blown away by your wit and intelligence! Hope it's okay that I'm skulking around reading your blogs - I'm old and trying to learn how to do this, because my vow to write a book someday is never going to come to fruition. If that's the right word ... I used to always just know what was the right word ... sigh ... so sad, what it all comes down to ...

  4. Hahah, I think I just wet myself! I live down the road from where to enigmatic giant sweatshirt/leggings combo are pictured. For a split second I contemplated recreating it. I think I will just have another drink instead.

  5. =( No pics for me! My computer is being a heinous biatch and will not show me the photos. But I'm sure they're awesome! =)

  6. Oh poop, I am laughing so hard while trying to stifle it so my husband is not disturbed that he thought I was sobbing. I lost it completely on the Ephalumps and Woozles. I was born in '74 and oh so unfortunately recall flaunting the fab fashions from velour sweatsuits and Polly Flanders in elementary school on through the daisy duke cutoffs with tights, doc martens, and men's flannel shirts in college. Argh! Love, loving your blog!

  7. That dress from 1994? I had that dress in 1994, too. Here's photographic proof; I'd seen fit to pair it with a bowler hat. I'm truly sorry!


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