At Magick Sandwich, we try to keep up with the latest trends. In the aftermath of Fashion Week in New York City, we try to put the pieces together of our blown minds.
As usual, the runways were rife with looks that suggest designers have gone off their meds. One of my favorites for Spring is the Stormtrooper/Fat Albert homage shown in Thom Browne’s men’s collection.
Runway garb is meant to be fanciful. No one really expects anyone to wear that hat in real life (though I would pay to see it). But the most puzzling outfit premiered this past week didn’t appear on the catwalk: It debuted in stores.
Topshop, in case you haven’t heard of it, is a retail chain that sells disposable fashion: that is, trendy, cheap skivvies with delusions of grandeur. Christopher Kane is the latest in a long list of designers and celebrities to team up with the outlet and produce a limited edition clothing line. These clothes are meant to be worn now, in public.
I have to admit, the Crocodile Dress has me throwing up my hands and exclaiming, “I don’t get it!” Then my primitive limbic system takes over and I yank my arms back to my sides to avoid having them bitten off by a prehistoric beast from hell.
Apparently, I’m the only one reacting this way. The line arrived in stores September 18th and was promptly snapped up–that’s pun-speak for sold out–within hours.
Call me crazy, but choosing to depict one’s cooterial region as a cavernous, toothy maw seems counter-intuitive at best. Conjuring the specter of vagina dentata can’t be a good idea. Tickle a guy’s subconscious fear of dismemberment by a fanged birth canal and you just might take the wind out of his sails, permanently. It’s what I would call a Negative Date Outcome.
Perhaps the back of Kane’s next dress could depict the swollen red bottom a baboon presents to her prospective mates. For the sake of young men’s psyches everywhere, I hope Kane’s friends will steer him toward Animal Planet. And away from Shark Week.