One of the reasons we came to believe that fugly is the new pretty: Everywhere we look, otherwise attractive or at least serviceable people seem to be going out of their way to fug themselves up, to the point of disaster. Clearly, looking one's best has ceded being a priority, supplanted by the need to be "quirky" and "different" and "a standout" -- and, too often, this means fugly.
But how can the common man or woman approach these levels of fug? How do we get with the trend? Where do we find guidance?
Magazines. Specifically, this month's Lucky, which seems to have as its mission The Fugging Of America. Grab your copy and play along.
1) On page 43, there's an entire spread entitled "What I Want NOW!" Is it about the entire England football team being in my living room? Is it about five-million dollars? Is it about a Double-Stuff Oreo? No. It's about that other thing you want right this second: Equestrian-themed clothing. According to Lucky, looking like you're ready at any time to throw a leg over a powerful animal (members of the England football team included, I suppose) means you are steeped in "the ultimate in rich, sporty style." The page pretends that pants that look like jodphurs, complete with knee patches, are "smart." There is a tan -- Tan! Not its trendier counterpart khaki, nor its posh twin, beige, but TAN -- cardigan, tapering at the sleeves and into the waistband, emblazoned with HORSE BRIDLES. Your grandmother, in whose closet it most belongs, would take one look at it and think it was frumpy. Lucky's take is: "A riding motif makes this cardigan posh." If by "posh" you mean "fugtastic." And finally, the magazine pimps a gold necklace with riding-themed charms (a horseshoe, a crop, a boot, etc.) and suggests that wearing such a necklace makes it seem like the charms have sentimental value. Yes, rather than actually wearing something that has sentimental value, you should buy something expensive that fakes it, and Lucky is teaching you how to do it the fugly way.
2) What to wear with your newly purchased riding jodphurs? How about some of the high-necked blouses that Lucky is trying to sell you on page 53. If you've ever itched to look like Fuggie Gyllenhaal or Kirsten Fugst, both of whom have worn high-necked shirts and looked like demented pale Victorian dolls, then this page is tailor-made for you. The bold portions of the captions -- atop photos of frumpy shirts that billow a tad too much, button up to your chin, and creep up on your head so as to choke you with their ruffles -- read as follows: "So romantic," "so airy," "a classic," and finally, "wear this." Not a lick of skin on your torso will show in one of these little numbers that Lucky insists upon calling, "Never stuffy!" The biggest blouse on the page is a silk paisley number that's $265, and is a turgid sea of purples and hot pinks. Wear this and you will look like a complete assfug. Which is apparently the point. Well-played, Lucky. Well-played.
3) Cruise on over to page 46 -- there's a velvet cape that the senior fashion editor thinks would be just FAB this season. Never mind that it's SUMMER, people. Or that it looks like a window treatment from a stuffy old mansion on a hill. There's also a "sultry -- yet earthy!" dress and some Stevie Nicks boots, if you decide to reject riding-wear and Victorian prudishness in favor of Fleetwood Mac chic.
4) Skip the page on tweed flats, because it will only mildly dumbfound you, and go straight to where true, potent bewilderment lies: page 142, which declares that "The Look" is... drum roll... '80s-style jeans. The model is wearing tight, tapered pants that hit at the ankle, covered in strange seams and zippers. If this style re-emerges, I will cry. Hard. The model couldn't look stupider if she'd put legwarmers over them.
5) Perhaps you could pair your new jeans with one of page 54's features: A blazer with rolled-up sleeves, preferably with a shirt underneath it that you roll up WITH and OVER the jacket's own sleeve. I'm fairly sure someone in Back to the Future wore this exact outfit.
Compared to all this, cover girl Molly Sims' pink leather jacket looks like a piece of real genius.
So have fun shopping this month -- thanks to Lucky, you'll know exactly where to go and what to buy in order to be a professional up-fugger.
