Low-Risers, Cheesecloth, and all sizes fit none (Final Installment)

Well, I guess this is it. Enjoy the final installment of Clothing Conundrum:Low-Risers, Cheesecloth, and all sizes fit none.

---

Why finding the right size is harder than winning the lottery.
At the root of all fashion problems lies this fact; even if clothes are “your size” they are likely not to fit. One day you could be a size zero and the next day a size 12. With all the different designers and companies it is becoming increasingly difficult to find a specific size that fits your body type. This difficulty is the result of all companies deciding that if they make clothes with random measurements they are bound to strike “size gold” sooner or later. Consequently, many women are left to try on many different sizes of the same outfit while inadvertently inflicting friends or family members to many grueling hours at the mall following you around, listening to smooth jazz or adult contemporary music, avoiding sales clerks, and holding your purse or jacket. On behalf of all your loved ones, “We forgive you”. We are all guilty of this crime. So is there any way to find that perfect size?

Even a person with an average body type has problems finding clothes that fit. Because I am slightly smaller than the average teenager it would be rational to assume that because of my size it is easy for me to find clothes. This assumption, however, is rarely true. In fact is very hard to find clothes that properly fit my body type. Take for instance a make-believe shopping trip that I have compiled from many separate, yet equally frustrating, shopping trips. I arrive at the store hoping to find a shirt that is long enough to cover my new low-rise jeans and is more durable than tissue paper. I begin searching and find a few shirts that vary in color which may just fit. But wait, I hit a snag. One of the shirts looks a little bit small, so I return to the rack and get the same shirt in a different size. This happens repeatedly with almost every shirt I have previously picked up.

Finally I reach the dressing room weighted down like a pack horse. Trying on my first shirt I realize that it is about the size of a 6 to 9 month old infant’s shirt. So I move on to the next size up. The new shirt is long enough to cover my low-rise jeans; however, it is too baggy on top and could become like a parachute if I ever bend over. This process takes several hours of trying on and hanging up my clothing items. Finally I leave the dressing room 254 shirts, 6 sizes, and 24 colors later with a shirt I randomly picked from the 75% off rack. I hate shopping.

Fascinating as it is to be a part of fashion and watch trends come and go, these current trends must finish their fifteen minutes of fame before anyone is subjected to another viewing of rear end “cleavage” or rips a hole in their new shirt just by putting it on. Despite the attempts of the fashion industry to be “cutting edge”, or even just “edgy”, they repeatedly fall short, causing mass hysteria in shopping malls all throughout America. To all you designers of the low-rise jeans, the cheese cloth shirts, the tube tops, the mini skirt, and yes, the bell bottom, I say, “No, thank you, I would rather be naked!”

Low-risers, cheesecloth, and all sizes fit none (Pt 2. cont.)

Again, here is the second installment of Low-risers, cheesecloth, and all sizes fit none. Enjoy.

---

“Are you wearing cheesecloth?”
When I enter the shopping mall, with or without a shopping agenda, I usually see one of two things right away; strange clothes or people wearing strange clothes. It is not always the style of clothing I notice, but rather the material their clothing is made of. Recently the texture of fabric has become thinner and thinner while the prices are getting higher and higher. It would be logical to conclude that with the common usage of sweat shop and child laborers companies could use more durable fabrics since they do not really feed or pay their workers. Maybe if the companies did treat their workers humanely they might actually make durable clothing.

The main problem with this fragile clothing is their sheer impracticality. These cheesecloth-like materials do not meet the basic definition of clothing. They cannot keep you warm, sheltered, or even remotely covered. It seems as though the fashion industry is playing a trick on consumers much like the king in the story, “The Emperor’s New Clothes”. The only practical use of any of these flimsy clothing items is possibly as a pasta strainer or a door screen. The downfall of using clothing in uncommon ways is the likelihood of such uncomfortable conversations as, “What are you doing with my new Ralph Lauren skirt? …Did you re-cover our lampshade?” or “I do not appreciate you using my $400 shirt as a butterfly net”.

Currently it seems as though this trend of thread-bare, barely there clothing is on the rise. Trends, horrible as they may be, are fine in my opinion, but they are only approved if I am assured that they will fade away and cause mass embarrassment to the trend victims, allowing them to wallow in fashion shame. Only a substantial amount of humiliation inflicted upon the masses will prevent the comeback of horrid trends. There is something about this common trend of virtually nonexistent 'clothing' that troubles me; designers have taken skimpy to the extreme. In fact, it seems that the main demographic of this trend turns out to be young women. This convinces me more and more each day that of all the fashion designers and trend setters in this world, the majority of them are men who went into the fashion designer career so they could further eliminate a difference between fully clothed and nudity.

Low-risers, cheesecloth, and all sizes fit none

Hey everybody! I decided that since it has been hard to find world events that I find interesting enough to write passionately about I would post part of an essay I wrote for a College Comp. Class. I will post them in 3 sections. So keep checking for the next installment of Low-Risers, Cheesecloth, and all sizes fit none.

---

Clothing Conundrum: Low-Rise pants, Cheesecloth, and all-sizes fit none
Throughout history of humankind, fashion trends have come and gone. Civilization has seen the rise and fall of foot binding and the corset, along with the steady ascent of the blue jean. Some fashions have been downright ridiculous, while others have changed the way we look, act, and feel. Despite our triumphs within the fashion industry, we have recently witnessed the launch of the steady decline of fashion. Amidst all the chaos we have to look at ourselves in a full-length mirror and ask one question: “Are clothes even worth it anymore?
Low rise jeans: Low on the waist, Low on options.
One of my biggest personal clothing peeves is the low rise jean. The main reason I feel hatred for this variation of the jean pant is the large monopoly it has placed on the previously stable, classical style of jeans. This monopoly occurred thanks to the clothing designers whom, much like the teens for which they are designing, desperately want to fit in with their peers, thus changing all normal jeans into denim mutants. Five years ago it was easy to find your favorite style of jeans. You could always go into your favorite store, locate your department, maneuver down the same row, and find your favorite style of jeans highlighted by soft, recessed lighting with a smooth jazz version of Handel's Hallelujah Chorus playing in the background. Back in the day jeans used to be dependable. The old philosophy of pant design allowed jeans to stay in style and on the rack; possibly making your pants more faithful, longer lasting, and more durable than a cherished friendship.
The rise of low rise pants has popularized a one night stand jean shopping mentality. Blue jeans used to be classified by simple words like boot cut, flare, or acid washed. It is currently impossible to find a pair or brand of jeans to which you can make a long term commitment due to supposedly helpful, classifying terms such as: low rise, ultra low rise, super low rise, and leg warmers. When I am shopping for jeans I can never remember the long description that matched a prior purchase of pants that I had learned to live with and often find myself asking, Did I get the ultra-low-waist acid-washed double-stitched flare-leg with the cargo-pockets or the low-waist button-fly boot-cut single-stitched classic-fade-wash with hidden-pockets? It is questions like these that keep me in psychological distress, and in the mall, just because I needed a new pair of pants.
Another reason I am disgusted by low-rise pants is due to the fact that unlike many products produced today, they live up, or should I say down, to their name. As I see it, low rise pants are a regressive action of the fashion industry, which, since the dawn of creation, and nakedness, has attempted to cover the oh-so-unattractive human backside. The current designers, though well established in clothing that covers the glutei region, decided that designing the extra inch or two of fabric was too much work, or too traditional. Despite the study of the human figure in art, never before has the butt been so severely emphasized; emphasis which it logically does not deserve. Although the gluteus maximus has a crack, it does not deserve or need to be marveled at or as widely seen as another crack, the Grand Canyon. The image of a plumber's butt has never been positively embraced as an image people would like to have engraved in their brain, and neither should a glimpse of the affectionately named, butt cleavage of any low-rise patron.
Because low- rise jeans have become so popular and simultaneously unavoidable I have been forced to adapt and have created a few tips that make the experience of buying and wearing low-rise pants more enjoyable than amputating your foot. There are several techniques that can help you find that good enough pair of pants. First, after you try on your pants sit down on a bench or on the floor. While in this position assess (no pun intended) the amount of cleavage showing. If you can fit the width of your hand between your backside and your pants do not, by any means, actually purchase these pants, unless you are prepared for your pants to become a basketball goal or trash can for the bored students sitting behind you. The next test you should carry out is the Bend and crouch test. This test mimes the everyday activity of reaching over and picking up something on the floor. Once again, if you can feel a breeze against you backside I encourage you to keep looking. The last test is called the stretch test. To perform this test you can do several things such as: run in place, jump up and down, skip, or bend over to touch your toes. If at any time during this test, your pants split or work their way down to your knees, do not purchase these pants. Also be aware that you might not only leave without any new pants, but it is highly probable that you will leave the store in your underwear without the jeans you were wearing, seeing that all jeans have looks, texture, and title in common. If, by some miracle, you do find a pair of pants that partially passes the test (with a C at least) you will inevitably have to prevent the crisis of plumbers crack. To thwart the chance of exposing yourself you will have to decide on one of the following options: wear no underwear, search for longer t-shirts, which is almost as improbable as finding jeans, but hey, you have made it this far, or the third and certainly most desirable option at this point, to join a nudist colony.