First of all, I have to apologise (that's right, sometimes I spell things in British-ese now) to my adoring public for having been so neglectful of my blog... no posts for TWO MONTHS?? Unacceptable, I say. And I'm sure you say the same. Who cares if I had two 6000-word essays, a dissertation abstract, and a 3-hour exam to deal with in May and June?? That's no excuse for Blog Silence. So here to rectify that is this lovely little reflection on Brussels (crimes against) fashion...
I recently took a little jaunt across the Channel to meet up with the legendary Stephen Gire in Brussels as he was on his way back from a little two-month sojourn in rural Congo (ask him about it, he *loves* the food on offer-- goat kneecap was a favorite). Needless to say, after two months of mosquito nets and river fish, he was ready for some good old European food and fun. (And of course I am *always* ready for some good old European food and fun, that's why I live here.) What neither of us was ready for was the tragic fashion (shit)show that is Brussels, Belgium. Last time I checked, Brussels was situated pretty squarely in between London and Paris, which are both pretty much Awesome Fashion Central, so imagine my surprise when I found that Brussels had somehow not got the memo that it too should be fashion-conscious like its fabulous neighbors. The thing is, it must have got SOME sort of memo filtered down from its fashion-forward sister cities because you can tell that people are TRYING to be trendy. But unfortunately something got lost in translation because they are failing oh-so-miserably. At one point I mentioned to Stephen that I found it strange there weren't any American Apparel stores in Brussels-- after all they are pretty much EVERYWHERE (I think they may have just opened one in rural Congo, right next to the goat kneecap restaurant). Stephen's response: "Yeah, you're right... wow, it's a really tragic day when an American Apparel would be an improvement on local fashion." WELL SPOTTED, Stephen, well spotted. Don't get me wrong, I love me some American Apparel-- but please note I said *some* American Apparel-- like their t-shirts and the occasional dress. You're fooling yourself if you don't think they've got some fugly stuff for sale up in that store, so you know the situation is dire when putting in an AA would be like setting up a fashion mecca for the poor misdirected Brusselians (Brusselese? Brusselers?).
One of the best (read: worst) contributions to the fashion arena came from a woman who wandered in to a bar where Stephen and I were enjoying the most expensive water of our entire lives. (8 euros for two bottles. YEP.) Anyway, this 35-to-40-ish-year-old woman walked in with her 8-ish-year-old daughter in tow and at first I didn't think anything of it as I was too busy having a small stroke over how much I had just paid for water. It wasn't until the woman got up from her table to take a picture of her daughter that my fashion sense (and indeed my common decency sense) got the wind knocked out of it. The woman was wearing TIGHTS (you know, those semi-sheer things with a CROTCH PANEL) as TROUSERS. Now, it's bad enough when I see girls sporting leggings with a short little t-shirt that comes nowhere near covering their ass, but at least I don't get a money shot of their undies. But this woman had it all on display-- undies, crotch panel, the whole nine yards. (I guess I should be grateful that she was at least WEARING undies.) It was appalling. I couldn't stop talking about it the rest of the week. We'd be out to dinner and I'd say with a shudder, "Ohhhh, remember the woman with the tights?? What was she THINKING??" And I came to the conclusion that she must have been thinking one of two things. Thought Process Number 1: "Hmmm, I've seen people wearing legging-type bottoms and tunics, and it looks really cute. Oh look, I have some like that! [finds tights buried in wardrobe] I'll pair these with that loose waist-length cotton top I got at the Moroccan flea market and it'll be the exact same look! And while I'm at it I definitely won't look at myself in the mirror from behind before I leave the house." Thought Process Number 2: "Hmmm, I want to wear something kind of trendy/sexy today. Ooh, I'll wear these form-fitting semi-sheer tights! And to balance them out I'll wear my loose-fitting cotton shirt on top-- don't want to overdo the sexy! Ooh, look at me from behind-- there's just the faintest hint of undies. Perfect!"
Thought Process Number 1 makes me sad as two sad things because she's just utterly oblivious to the fact that she's flashing everyone some ass cheek and if she found out she'd probably be unbelievably embarrassed. And Thought Process Number 2 pains me equally because if that is her definition of trendy/sexy then something has gone terribly wrong somewhere along the way, probably due to an absentee father, or watching some really bad fashion shows. So Brussels, here's my advice to you: stick to what you know (waffles, beer, chocolate) and leave the trend-setting to the people that know you shouldn't leave the house when we can all get a good glimpse of the floral pattern on your Hanes Her Ways. And if you're from Brussels and you're reading this, please don't come and kill me in my sleep for insulting your fair city's (lack of) fashion sense.
