While shopping at H&M this past Black Friday, I couldn’t find a single thing I would feel comfortable wearing to an upcoming formal function.
Not. A. Thing.
Every skirt, dress, or strap-of-clothe was too short, too tight, too loose, oddly-patterned, or simply a combination of all the above-mentioned horrors …
I’m waiting on the debut of the gender queer fashion designer who creates garments with men’s sleek, aggressive overtones coupled with a touch of women’s sensual flare, cut, and color.
Are you there, Dream Designer? It’s me, Dante.
I want sassy slacks that don’t sag in the butt or clutch for danglies that aren’t there; a form fitting button-up shirt that hugs my slight hips but fits my tomboi-ish chest; and a jacket that screams business louder than Bette Porter can scream, “Fuck You!”
I want garments that ride the line, speak their mind, and say, “bitch, I’m fabulous!!” As soon as I take my first step into a room.
Instead, I find men’s clothing in every size but extra small; “advertising slim fit” when the design is really for those with shoulders wider than door-frames and hips like toothpicks; and unnecessarily long sleeves which allow me to better understand why some men believe we are all descended from primates. I find women’s clothing, which more closely resembles woolen shrink wrap, peppered in condoms, and featuring just one unbuttoned pocket just large enough to fit a trial-size of KY.
Why? Why are the pockets on women’s jackets and slacks stitched together? Why?
Looks like I’m going in a button-up, wool sweater and suit jacket; with some nice slacks and all the appropriate “power-dyke” accessories this year … Again.
Here goes another year of Ellen Degeneres jokes.
*cue the theme music*