Ring Ring! Ring Ring!

"HEY. Pick up the phone. Hear that? It's the eighties."

My sister looked over at me from the housewares section; I could tell that she didn't want to acknowledge that we knew each other. "What?" she growled. "I'm looking for things for the apartment."

"I found something you need to try on," I smirked. "You'll love it, dude. Get over here." Before she could protest, I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to where I found... it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"  She strained to keep her voice down. Did I embarass her? Gosh, I wasn't even trying. "I'm not wearing that."

"But..."

"No, you go try it on, smartass."

I looked at it, then back to her. I felt my confidence waver, but just slightly. Hadn't I just been joking with Nannerkins about wearing one of these? "You're on, dude," I said. "But if I rock that, you have to buy it for me."

"Only if you wear it out of the house."

I looked over at her; she was snickering. She thought this was funny. Oh, I'd show her. I'd show her how awesome that thing would look on me, in all it's completely bitchin' eighties glory. "You're on." I grinned, grabbing it off the hanger and walking over to the dressing rooms.

I stepped out of the dressing room a few minutes later, smirking in my sister's direction. "Well?" I asked, fixing my hair. "What do you say?" I leaned up against the door, never taking my eyes off of hers. I wanted to make sure she knew that I was serious when I said I could wear pretty much anything.

Her smile faded. "I hate you," she growled. "Put the damn jumpsuit in the cart."

Hell Hath No Fury Like Paisley Scorned

The Target: Well, lets admit, this was sort of just for laughs.

The Pieces: Jacket, skirt

The Approach: Is it possible for a pattern to be angry? Well, I asked this paisley fabric and lets just say the response was something like "AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!" Would you not have the same reaction if you had been turned into this atrocious jacket? I am not sure which part is the least horrendous…The bipolar length? (Really, does it want to end at my waist or my hips…someone has commitment issues!)…The want-to-be leg of mutton sleeves? (more like a derriere-challenge-sheep- that-has-been-lame-for-the-past-decade sleeves)…Or, is it the odd fit? (Seriously, was this thing fitted for Dolly Parton?)

As soon as we saw this eyesore on the rack we knew it had to be put down. I don't mean verbally abused. I mean taken out to the back yard, tied to a tree and shot. Execution a la Ol' Yeller. CARNAGE GALORE!! We didn't even attempt to save it. This black skirt we paired it with was remnant of a saved disaster…and even that didn't help. It is truly a shame, because this fabric had such potential.

The Outcome: Look at my face. Go ahead LOOK! That is the face of shear pain. The jacket actually burned my flesh. I think it was made of leprosy, because it felt as if my skin was being eaten off of my body by a carnivorous beast! This was a FAIL of epic proportions, biblical even (you know, because of the leprosy). Please, if you see this jacket in any store, for your own safety, DO NOT approach unless you are packing! If so, shoot it and do the world a favor. You never know if this is the sort of thing that will grow up to be Godzilla and take out it's rage on Tokyo!!

Total: Does it even matter? This outfit hurts.