Driveby Cunting: Two-Fisted Fail

You met her that year at DragonCon. After the second round of Settlers of Catan with the novelty giant gamepieces, she caught your eye and whispered her room number.

An alluring and mysterious plastic sack of toy surprises just behind her heaving, Halloween-stockinged calves. Two fists raised in ready one-two lovetaps. The gentle undulation of rolls embraced snugly beneath geriatric support undergarments. Black pencil skirt by Targét. The beckoning black screen of a laptop stuffed with “erotic art” of “real womyn”.

And for mopping up: her polyamorous husband’s still-warm jorts, standing faithfully at the ready to catch milady’s essences, and yours.

As is he.

Thank you.

Cowl In Fear

Remember Steamcunt’s article about skin care? Well, if you missed it,  it was exceptional. 

Some may not have found the article so helpful. For those of you doomed to permanent skin purgatory, I offer this advice……

Cowl neck garments are so in right now. Just go ask Rick Owens, he’s got your back. Goth ninjas gotta hide somehow……

Forma Aislada~ Paco Peregrin

Tactical Error

Recently, there has been an abundance of reviews concerning this corset. Here at Stylecunt, we feel it our duty to give you our own review. What follows is another conversation between Steamcunt and Stylecunt concerning the Tactical Corsets……

 

 

 

Steamcunt: Let’s examine this.

1. Corsets are intended to make you look thinner.

The Tactical Corset straps a bunch of shit to your midsection, completely obliterating the intended silhouette. 

 

Stylecunt: I can already sense that this idea is going to spiral out of control, and send the alt majority five years backwards in fashion. 

It reminds me of those velcro suits people wear.

Then fling themselves into walls.

 

Steamcunt: The garment is a study in self-defeat.

2. Corsets squeeze and bind your torso.  This defines them as corsets.  A garment that does not constrict is not a corset.

By definition, a corset is impractical.  Wearing it in any sort of practical situation, particularly one dealing with potential physical harm is, at best, mind-bogglingly stupid.

 

Stylecunt: It apparently works for vampires.

 

Steamcunt: That’s a good example, actually.

That corset was so badly-fit that it was flapping around Beckinsale.

Because otherwise she would not be able to MOVE.

 

Lip Service: The Fail 2009 Line (Part 2)

Welcome to the exciting sequel to Part one of my review of Lip Service’s 2009 Fall line. 

LOST VELVET EMPIRE

 

Velvet empire, methinks you should have stayed lost. After fashion broke up with you in the late 70’s, we really never expected you to surface again. But if we ever need an outfit for a ‘Little Lord Faulteroy Gone Wrong’ party, we’ll let you know. 

Also, circular cameo on the back? Where have I seen that before……

Lip Service: The Fail 2009 Line (Part 1)

Sit on down kiddies, it’s time to talk about our old friend Lip Service. 

In an attempt to make fashion fail drones feel special, Lip Service has recently started offering a ‘pre-order’ service. This allows you to stake your claim on the upcoming season before it hits the stores. The fail, I mean Fall line is already up, and it seems that black credit cards everywhere are melting from overuse (some styles have already sold out it seems). 

I’m sure that on the first day of school, your little friends Spooky and Sider will clutch their lunchbox purses tightly to their chests and gasp as you stroll by in your latest Lip Service duds. 

So what has Lip Service cooked up for us this time? I’m sure that the flurry of new silhouettes and fabrics will knock the snark right out of my mouth. I, for sure, am going to be told. 

 

RETURN OF THE THUNDERDOME

Hey look! It some sort of burner/gypsy/circus/goth fashion fusion. I have certainly never seen anything like that before. 

I would really, really love to know how exactly this is Thunderdome? Is it meant to mean that the old Lip Service Thunderdome line has ‘returned’ from rehab? Usually, I would complain if they just recycled an old line, but if this the best they could come up with, give me the old stuff any day. At least it had a neat little flight cap, it went perfectly with my biplane. 

I know that when I’m fighting to the death on a bungee cord, goth gypsy school girl is definitely the look to strike fear into the heart of one’s opponent. The hide-the-belly zipper top is key. 

 

Spit Spat

The topic: These spats. 

Stylecunt:  It’s like, the spats are made of cake. 

 It should be marketed as ‘granny craft’.

‘100 fairies were killed to make these spats’.

 It’s like doilies for your feet.

 

Steamcunt: Tea cozies for the teapot line of Fluevogs.

I found the perfect boots to go with them.

 

Stylecunt:   Tell me that they’re made of unicorn hide.

 

 

 

 

Steamcunt: Dude, they are motherfucking cakepirate boots.

 

Stylecunt: Rococo New Rocks.

Or simply..

Rococo wrecks.

 

Steamcunt: New Rockoco?

 

Stylecunt: 17th century glam.

It makes a statement.

 

Steamcunt: “Make a wish an blow the man down”

 

Stylecunt: “My nose may be falling off from syphilis, but at least my feet look like royal cupcakes”.

 

 

 

Stylecunt: Just what my shoes always wanted, a collection of Jo-ann Fabrics dustbin scrapings glued into spats.

Lets go and put an insane amount of detail into accessories that are farthest from the eyes as possible.

‘You’ll have to get on your hands and knees to truly experience my spats’.

‘But please, don’t look up my Lolita skirt’.

 

Steamcunt: These are the kind of thing you do for extra credit in Home Ec and when you take them home at the end of the semester, your mom says they are “fun”.

So naturally, you go into business on the internet.

 

Stylecunt: Probably went to a school where you get a smile instead of a grade.

 

Steamcunt: (art school)

These are for people who really get off on Victorian sexually mores.

When just a hint of foot-bloomer was enough to get you raped by cads on the pneumatic subway.

 

Stylecunt:  I bet they have some uses.

You could throw them at Jack the Ripper.

 

Steamcunt: Absolutely.  The plastic buttons get up to killing speed.  It’s all in the wrist.

And of course we’ve all been at those fucking parties where the hostess doesn’t have any spare doilies, and some clumsy sow stains the whole stack.

 “Pardon me” isn’t good enough.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with a sopping brown doily.

Incidentally, Sopping Doily is the name of my Rasputina cover band.

It’s also an obscure sex act involving the last brown discharges of menses.

I read that on Wikipedia.

 

Stylecunt:  I wonder if King Louis knows his curtains are missing.

 

Steamcunt: Is it entirely beyond the pale to make fun of this woman for interrupting her product line photo collection with a retrospective of her dead cat?

Maybe it’s too soon.

Maybe she makes cat mufflers.

 

Stylecunt: Fluffy was killed in the great accessorie war of 2009.

He gave his life for fashion.

The Beastly Burners

Y’know what’s fun?

Burningman. 

Y’know what’s not fun?

Burner fashion. 

Neon colors, fuzzy fabric, polyurethane, and cheap spandex are just a few examples of the eyesore that is burner garb. It wouldn’t be so terrible if the monstrosities just emerged on the playa, and then went back into the shed for the rest of the year, but alas, I can hardly remember a night out that wasn’t tarnished by encountering a neon fashion mess. 

It’s a fashion plot worthy of an evil genius. Convincing thousands of hippies to cover themselves head to toe with fibers that are the exact opposite of eco-friendly. It’s hardly a surprising conspiracy. I mean, how hard can it be to convince people, who believe that partying will save the world, to dress like The Electric Mayhem? 

Normally I try to ignore this particular mania, out of sight, out of mind. Then, I came across this. From shoddy home-sewn projects to a full on assembly line of tragedy. 

Please.

Make it stop.

The Languished Lookbook

We, the style obsessed, used to have a beautiful obsession.

That obsession, was Shoutfit.

Shoutfit was a neat little website where you and I could post photographs of our stylish togs. It was wonderfully organized. You could tag the photo all over to label every piece of your outfit, describing the brand, price, and where you acquired it. But above all, Shoutfit was wonderful because of its diversity. 

Unfortunately, Shoutfit died suddenly without so much as a whisper of goodbye. No warnings, the site just disappeared. 

Now, over a year later, it seems that a new website has risen to take Shoutfit’s place. 

Lookbook.

As a devoted fan of Shoutfit, when I heard about this website, I was elated with joy. Finally, a new style site I could obsess over. But I spoke too soon.

Instead of a style website, Lookbook is an interweb hangout for escapees of American Apparel sex dungeons. It’s a Mecca for camera-whore Swedish gay boys with beards, who used to be in some band that played your cousin’s party, but now just work in that used book store down the street. It’s a stomping ground for girls who wear stretch pants, a blouse found in a gutter, gold sunglasses, their grandmother’s costume jewelry, and wrap it all up with the stench of not showering for a week. 

When this is the most popular look on a style website with thousands of members, I fear for the future of fashion. 

It doesn’t help that Lookbook has decided to be an exclusive snot, as it is a ‘invitation only’ community where it’s not really important what your wearing, it’s who your wearing. 

The whole thing makes me sad. It has great potential to b an amazing style community, but trust fund brats have seen to it that we shall never see anything but images of scene kids in 70’s pajamas.

The Gravity Of Sangfroid And Prudence

Or in other words, the importance of poise and self-restraint. 

Actions speak louder than words, but even more vehement is appearance. Someone once said that it’s 40% how you look, 40%how you sound, and 10% what you actually say. When it comes to casual interaction, I’ve always found this to be the gospel. If you look good and sound good, you can survive any social situation. 

So how does this relate to style?

Having actual style in alt culture is an onerous task. The aim has become more about identifying with a subculture, rather than creating a look that identifies with you. The googles make you steampunk, the hair falls make you cyber, the New Rocks make you rivet and so on. Alt culture has reached this pinnacle where the clothes make us who we are. 

What is your look trying to say? Are you and your posse elite cypher-ninjas? Do those brown goths really have a tiny biplane parked outside? Do you take periodic breaks to drink the blood of the innocent?  I was unaware that Lip service is a sovereign nation with a substantial military, what with the numerous humans donning their uniform. 

So there’s the first 40% (but if you ask me, it’s really more like the first 70%). The viewer has already assessed most of who you are by the way you look. Fashion has become so compartmentalized that looks are becoming regalia. If this continues, alt style is surely doomed. 

The point is, if you look like an asshole, people will assume you are an asshole. 

To move on, I will not deny that many people can pull it together. Within subcultures, style does indeed exist. Scores of mortals have been known to show up at ye olde nightclub looking magnificent. 

Which brings me to the real issue at hand, the way you sound. The most expensive clothes from the most prestigious designers are not worth a thing once you have consumed your third drink. What happened to poise? What happened to grace? Hours of style primping can all come crashing to the ground the second you stumble in your stilettos. 

If it’s 40% how you sound, most of you are preordained to fail. The gods of liquor have seen to that. 

I conclude that some contemplation is in order. If you look like an asshole and sound like an asshole, then the last 10% won’t even matter, because no one will care what you have to say. 

So have an opinion! Think before you buy! Buy a mirror! Stop at two drinks! And for the love of god, make sure that biplane has fuel!

As I can never post without the addition of photos, here are some images that, for me, always embodied the essence of poise and grace. 

Photos by Irving Penn.

Style Gestapo: Kill It With Fire!

The fifth installment of the hair extension slander saga in which I indulge in comedic disdain. 

YARN FRAGGLES

I have posted the worst, the most pointless, and the ugliest hair extensions. Now, I will post the most ridiculous of all: the yarn heads. What person in their right mind thinks that this is a good idea? Did they perhaps fall into their mother’s knitting basket? 

It’s not hair, it’s not even pretend hair, it’s just a big, huge fashion mistake.

But on a lighter not, this photo makes me laugh so hard that I have to push the laptop away periodically.