The Joy of Fug

I don't know about you guys, but for the last few days I've felt stuck in this awful waiting game, just passing time until we finally get photos of the Beyonce/Jay-Z wedding. I have good money riding on hot pants being part of Beyonce's wedding outfit at some point in the night (because you know she's the kind of bride who'll go through 8 different costume changes). Also, sidenote, I'm kind of disappointed they tied the knot because I was nursing two wild hopes: first, that Jay-Z would leave Beyonce for Rihanna and Beyonce would record a double album of really, really angry songs that would be perfect to work out to about how all men are dogs and women are evil whores, and second, that Jay-Z would start dating Mindy Kaling.

So to distract me from the wedding dress/hot mess that Beyonce's mom no doubt designed for her daughter, I've been catching up on Fug Madness over on Go Fug Yourself. If you aren't familiar with The Best Fashion Blog Of All Time, then click on the link and don't come back until you've read every post for the last four years. Trust me, you won't miss anything here. If you already read it, then you know that for the past month they've been doing a basketball-style tournament of fug to determine who the fugliest celebrity in Hollywood is. It came down to Bai Ling and Victoria Beckham, and the chemically unbalanced model/actress (?) took it all over the crazily fabulous Spice Girl. I was kind of hoping for Chloe Sevigny to come out on top, since I'd say "The embodiment of Fug" should be on the top of her resume, above all those acting jobs.

So in honor of all this glorious fugliness, I thought I'd share a few things I've stumbled on recently that made me shriek with glee at the extreme fug.

I can't even begin to understand these Steve Madden Ice Suede shoes, $99.95. Why would you want to look like you're wearing leg warmers with heels? With a ribbon tied around your calf? Maybe if you were in sort of tap-dancing off-Broadway musical featuring the art of mime... but still, no.

Onesies, jumpers, rompers, overalls: there is not enough "no" in the world to describe how I feel about them. I'm pretty much categorically opposed to any outfit that requires you to get almost naked in order to pee, except one-piece bathing suits when you're swimming laps. Or, ok, if you weigh under 45 pounds (because you're a baby, not an anorexic). But no grown woman should wear a jumpsuit, and I promise, if you do, two years from now you're going to see it in the back of your closet and say, "What the hell was I thinking?" Or even worse, some potential crush is going to be combing through your Facebook photos, see you in a romper, and instantly know he was wrong about you being a girl with her head on straight. It's tough to pick the ugliest of the bunch (and there are way, way too many out there; rompers need to be exterminated like cockroaches), but I particularly hate this Twelfth St. by Cynthia Vincent Zip-Front Strapless Romper, $249. Not only is it an unflattering bronze color, the description says it's semi-sheer. What? Sheer is only good in the boudoir or by the pool. If you wear this out in public, not only will everyone think you're an idiot for wearing a romper, but they'll also think you're tacky for exposing your undergarments.

American Apparel is kind of my go-to store for "What the fucking fuck?" clothes. Their use of lame, especially, makes my soul hurt. There was a girl in my American Lit class last year who would wear bright purple shiny leggings every week, and Hannah and I referred to her as "that demented American Apparel girl." But at least I never saw her wear a gold lame suspender swimsuit, $36. Alex commented on the crazy-eyed models, and I agree that they make any piece of clothing look cracktastic. But even Elle McPherson couldn't make this "swimsuit" look anything less than ridiculously stupid. If anyone wants to see a hint of nipple, click on the link and check out the silver version of this, worn without the tube top.

This one is for my ladies in Colonial Williamsburg, who hopefully know better than to start wearing knickers. I'm willing to be the Lux Knickerbocker pant, $58, from Urban Outfitters, would be universally unflattering and not at all comfortable. They might be good if your preferred method of shoplifting is stuffing fruits and vegetables down your pants, but otherwise, no.

So all of the things I've posted have been fug in form, but this one is more fug in execution. From Free People, Alissa's Ikat dress, $138, has an entire craft's store of brick-a-brack and rickrack on it. It has the embroidered trim, little decorative mirrors under the bust, a tie in the back, ruffle hem, a solid pink panel down the front, and... is that cow print on the side? You guys, if I'm not mistaken there's black and white cow print on one hip and pink and white cow print on the other. So it's not even symmetrically fug! And this could be a decently cute dress if it had half as much going on, but right now it looks like Martha Stewart's craft barn got sick and vomited this dress out.

Here's one for the boys that also has way, way too much going on. The J.Crew patchwork plaid shawl cardigan, $199, looks like it was designed for the world's queerest lumberjack. I thought, surely, that this must be the fugliest thing J.Crew has ever made. But then I saw the patchwork tweed vest, $159.99, and I thought, ok, game over, this is the fugliest thing anyone has ever created ever.




But wait! Is it possible that the Patchwork Wool jacket, $349.99, is actually even fuglier? The patches are a little bigger, which helps make it look less like a piece of fabric you dug out of the earth, but it's also a full, $350 jacket of ugly ass patches. You decide.


I think that making this post has scarred my soul. Ouch.