Cultural Imperialist

"Scathing Spats on Shallow Subjects"

 

Sun Aug 20

 

2017

 
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The Jeg is Up

There are certain things a culture can do to obliterate itself on the relevance scale. When the Mayans lost their empire to the Spaniards, imported disease, a misuse of local resources and poor agribusiness practices, and ridiculous sacrifices to damaged goods gods certainly didn't help matters.

Making stars out of Katy Perry and fetishizing suicide as a manner of speaking out against the Man tends in this direction.

But where things start to go really wrong is in the department of good taste, and nowhere is this more egregiously offended than when it comes to jeggings. Looking back, I think they were the first sign of the crumbling of the Mayan power as well.

Jeggings are the unholy union of leggings and jeans. Like Tiger sleeping with multitudes of creepily unattractive bimbos, this lithe love child carries the stigma of denim mated with spandex, as if the two even had a chance at a decent relationship.

Unlike capri pants, whose summery feel gave them a sense of playful innocence, if short lived usefulness, jeggings already feel dated and unusable in all but the most bizarre circumstances. They might find a home in a Greenwich village showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, with its gaudy pu pu platter of human misery and ridiculousness, but outside of that or Cher's sad Botox-injection of a funeral, these harbingers of anti-fashion say nothing and do less.

What exactly do jeggings accomplish other than forcing your legs into an acid washed splotchy gym pant of dubious pattern, making you appear half-primed to camouflage yourself amongst alien shrubbery to avoid being eaten by a denim-hungry bird of prey? Mobile elongated cottage cheese containers aren't what we were promised by futurists and science fiction gurus of the 50's, but oh what our collective disposable imaginations have wrought. You might have thought the words "denim" and "camel-toe" could occupy the same sentence, much less the same anatomical area, but thanks to jeggings, humans can now move on to the next sin against nature.

If they were shorter, you could excuse them as a kind of aerodynamic cowboy underwear, or as bike shorts. But jeggings elicit the feeling that you are a prostitute with a high risk for gonorrhea and stupidity.

Problems compound when men start to adopt women's fashion. They did it with berets, skinny jeans, and now, sadly, Jeggings, which promotes tucking, as if the emasculation of men wasn't limited to cutting off the circulation to one's genitals. Turns out the Crying Game is less revolutionary now that Lady Gaga has co-opted the androgynous look for her own private monster playground.

The one good thing to emerge from the jeggings' rise to fashion frenzy is the downgrade of muffin tops and visible g-strings to just "trashy." Civilization's decline may not be certain if we can just mature fast enough to reject these bad ideas before they expand outwards like visible cellulite ripples on a fat girl's thighs.

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