Dateline New York
Trust me, folks, the ironic old man hat is over, finit, passé. Stick a fork in it, it’s done. If you persist in wearing one, rest assured you will most certainly and immediately join the ranks of the tragic and the lame. After all, the only thing worse than a hipster is a hipster wannabe. I say this not to injure, but to enlighten.
Not convinced? Think that raffish topper from Target is just what you need to catapault your bad self to nerd elite status while walking the mall or sipping your latte? Consider this then. Justin Beiber wears one.
So please, now that spring is officially here, and you can put away that ridiculous Rocket J. Squirrel and its pal the Commissar, give the sighted public a break and try going hatless for the season. The vitamin D will do you good.
And by the way, since we’re on the subject of summer fashion — Ladies, wearing dirty, ratty old boots with a summer dress in stinking hot weather is gross and nasty. It telegraphs one thing and one thing only: “Mah feet smell.” This never looked good, but now it looks bad AND out of date. And don’t even consider UGGS unless you’re under twelve.
For the love of God, just get some flip flops. Please?
Ah New Year’s Day, that wonderful celebration of new beginnings, hangover ministrations, formal apologies, stomach pumps and bail hearings. Following as it does on the heels of what my family fondly calls amateur night, January first is steeped in homespun tradition, most of which centers around stepping over the moaning carcasses of relatives, friends and complete strangers strewn around the living room and desperately trying to warm themselves at the flat screen. But it’s also about disconsolately sipping Alka Seltzer between trips to the powder room and coping with the mortification and shame that accompany each flashback of the night before.
And then, of course, there are resolutions to be contemplated, made and almost immediately abandoned. What’s mine? you ask. Well, in addition to losing those pesky last thirty pounds (plateauing at two is such a bitch) and giving my liver the occasional day off, I’ve vowed to watch each and every episode of Rachel vs. Guy: Celebrity Cook-Off. The January first premier is perfect timing; I’ll already be nauseated before it even begins! Read the rest of this entry