Questionable Fashion Choices By The Boston Community

Yesterday, in light of the brisk fall weather, I channeled my inner Blair Waldorf into my outfit for work. Juicy Couture gold ballet flats. Black leggings. Deep purple knee length pleated skirt (satin! by The Limited!). Sleeveless Tahari black top and a black blazer. I threw a thick purple headband through my newly dyed jet black hair, grabbed my Coach suede gallery tote and left to make a Red Line subway to work. I am not two steps out of my front door when I see a construction worker, staring at me (and my Blair Waldorf outfit) -- and it wasn't a glance. It was a stare, as I walked, his head moved. Throughout my half a hour commute, I found that these stares came frequent and often. From men and women. Women looked at me almost in disgust. I was, and still am, kind of shocked by this.

Shocked, but unsurprising, maybe. After reading this article in Boston Magazine, I severely question the fashion choices that the Boston-area women (and men) are making. Case in point. This morning on the Green Line, I saw a girl no taller than I (I graze 5'0"), hop on the train in full emo gear. Pencil leg jeans - in black. Converse All Stars. Black jacket that looks like a five-year-old bought it. But the kicker of the outfit choice was the headband that she wore around her head. Kind of like a halo. It looked like the head decorations babies wear, because they have no hair to hold back an actual headband. No one (except for me) batted an eye at this girl as she stood on the T - complete with glistening silver headware. I've seen women wear those Asian slide on mesh slippers (you know what I'm talking about, right?) all over the city. Their cheap beads fall off as they walk -- at least they'll know their way home if they get lost. I've seen women wearing jeans that expose thongs of women too old to be wearing such undergarments. And yet. I get looks for my nice work appropriate outfit.

Call me an elitist, but I want to start yelling, 'MY SHIRT IS BY REBECCA BEESON' or 'THESE ARE LAST SEASON, CANNOT FIND AGAIN FLATS.' I've never been so amazed at the lack of fashion knowledge in a city before. The last time I felt as though I had to dress down was in college, where even then, girls could respect the meaning of Juicy Couture sweats. This city might be a historic one, but I think a small dose of New York wouldn't hurt in the couture department.
-M