There is a guy at my gym who wears a matching tiger skin jumpsuit. A girl wears full cocktail make up. Her shoes are glistening brand new, straight out of the package. Look, there’s another one!
This entire tube carriage look like they are on their way to a reality TV audition. Good lord, look at that man’s haircut, it’s a piece of modern art. What the hell is happening, why is everyone so pristine??
Instagram culture has now so permeated our society that it is bleeding into the lives of ordinary people like me, who even though we abstain from it’s use, are now being made to feel bad about our appearance!
It’s no secret you kids go on Instagram, spend a few hours looking at a photo of someone that had more people working on it than Beyonce’s Lemonade, than feel terrible shame because you don’t look like that in real life, with your single camera, and modest make up assortment from Boots.
So you hit the high street, buy all the clothes, stuff your backside with pillow cases, to the point that before I sussed what had happened I thought I went into some kind of Being Kim Kardashian wormhole – they were everywhere! Then men are just as guilty! Again, I’m in the gym – sorry are we in a nightclub?! Why is everyone dressed better in here than I dress out there?! Are going to sweat and be disgusting or take MMA (and to be fair, usually be disgusting)?!
I feel like all I have to do is gently touch one of these poor souls with a slight prod and they would crumble to pieces. They would burst into tears, “AHHHH, it’s so hard!! I don’t want to buy another brand new pair of shoes! Let me live!! Let me live!!!”
Back in my day we only needed one pair of pants, three shirts, and a black motorcycle jacket. Hell, I used to cut my own hair. We were thrifty! We had attitude! No wonder you kids can’t afford houses! You’re spending all your money on foundation and trips to the ‘gentleman’s grooming station’!
Someone has to bring back the chic slob. Remember Fight Club?? Brad looked great! Now there’s a look you can pull off on a dime store budget. Ladies I hear your concerns – you are judged far more harshly for what you wear, especially when it comes to earning gainful employment. Nobody looked for work in the 90’s! Hell with it! Let’s start a band! We’ll suck!
But, look I’m devolving into farce. The hard truth is the world today is littered with clones:
Girls are Kardashian look-a-likes, wearing seventy-five pounds of foundation (I’ve always been confused, is the point of make up to look like you are not wearing it?), men all wear the same outfit: super tight painted on trousers with an even tighter fitting top half, so it looks like they were attempting to turn into the Hulk, but weren’t strong enough to break through the fabric, replete with these rigid military style haircuts (like, pulling girls is a war zone baby!! We need to be ready for battle men!), and glowing bright white shoes with that stupid little alligator on them.
if you need me, I’ll be sitting on the other end of the train carriage in dirty old combat boots (£100 – they last for YEARS), my trusty pair of black jeans, my £8 jacket I got in an alley in Brixton, and one of three t-shirts. The money I save on apparel will all go towards buying myself a modest little cottage up north where I can hide from you freaks until the next decade – who no doubt after finding these relics notes from the 90’s, and revere them as gospel – takes over.