By Benjamin Kissell
AKA: Fashion Failures at the Boarding Gates
What makes this Gay Heart Weep tears of Burberry tinted horror at the Boarding Gates? Why, looking up and seeing scads of shabbily, shoddily, scantily -clad passengers hoofing it past me.
Okay, I'm not the paragon of fashion perfection and I'm far from garbed in couture [Gap jeans, white-checked dress shirt from Old Navy, Mossimo blazer and my recently coloured hair], but even I respect the Old School Flying etiquette: Dress for appeal and comfort!
Think Bogart and Bacall, not Spears and Federline.
Arriving at Dulles Intl Airport (at 5:20 - 3 hrs before our flight) we exited the shuttle bus to a complete visual atrocity.
Never had my eyes been accosted with so many tired, greasy and gross combinations of sweats and track-pants. By the time I arrived at my Boarding Gate, 'twas all I could do not to physically cringe each time I saw a Hello Kitty XS tee on a 40something, paunchy Japanese man.
I all-but break out the giant sunglasses to hide behind.
Now, don't get me wrong; there are numerous fine examples of fabulous flying frocks all around me - the lovely woman in pressed white slacks with vintage paisley-patterned blouse.
Or the young man in designer jeans, RalphLauren polo and matching leather jacket and shoes.
And, ooh, the lovely gay couple who seem to be striving for 'Modern Family pilot' (complete with bearded redhead and Korean baby), they're rather adorable.
Yumm! As I type, a lovely 40something woman with blown-out blonde hair strolls by in a perfect combination of 50s hat, midi-trench, slim-fit slacks and heels. She? Got the memo!
Hrmm, the 50something balding Borgnine-type in a black sweater with rainbow fishscales? [The header photo of the article] Good attempt; you get a C for effort. Of course when you pair that with a pair of brown boots (the only colour NOT in said sweater) I must downgrade to a C-.
[Sidenote: for the woman who plopped down with a just-bought copy of Nicholas Sparks' The Choice, please pick up a copy of Stuff That Makes A Gay Heart Weep for its entry on that weepiest of authors.]
But you! Mister Tatty Track Pants, Grody Navy Flip-flops [because I wanna see your nasty green toenails? I think not] and Stained Black 1998 Red Hot Chili Peppers Tee and Oil-Slick-Survivor Cap? You? Oh 'sir' you merit my super-special GayHeartsWeep Fashion Card.
I present this award to you in deference to the extreme care and choosing you obviously went through in the 2 minutes you got dressed in the dark.
I thank you for this sight as it saves me the trouble of letting my stressed stomach roil on its own.
[Writer's Note: this blog was actually written while sitting at the Boarding Gate in Dulles, on 03/26/2011]
