Saturday, July 05, 2008

Cut The Cute Colered Collar Crap

This is the original, uncut version of an article I wrote for the Roanoke College newspaper my freshman year. You bet your ass it was an instant classic.

Now I’m not one to judge people, but I am one to lie. By that I mean, I do judge people; not just for their actions, but for their appearance too. Superficial? Sure. Realistic? Definitely. We live in a society in which following the latest trend is crucial. Not to our survival, but to our very social status. Sad? Sure. Pathetic? Quite.

No, I’m not crusading against the fashion industry because where would anorexia and bulimia be today without it? Rather than state my grievances with toothpick models and real-life Zoolanders, I shall focus on one epidemic sweeping this innocent campus. This is my second year at Roanoke College and I’ve put up with it for too long and now, something must be said. Yes, pastel colored shirts with the collar flipped up like you’re some sort of Easter egg hunting Elvis Presley has simply got to go. Apparently, this entire school is taking fashion tips from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. I’m sure at this point, those of you sporting this fashion will be outraged, but please, calm down and let me explain why you’re such a tool.

Allow me to begin with the collar problem. Contrary to popular belief, The King is dead. Yet, you are still trying to carry on his popped collar tradition. Why must you spit on the style he so diligently set forth by rocking a pastel colored knockoff Izod shirt? He’s probably rolling over in his fat man’s coffin right now. And I understand 50 Cent said something about “poppin’ fools like I pop my collar” but there’s a slight difference between him and you – he’s worth millions and you couldn’t pop a balloon with a hacksaw. I will admit that the collar concept is much less irritating than the color scheme, but unless you’re trying to hide the hickies administered by the fat girl from the night prior, it’s really not necessary. I understand many females at this school also sport the popped collar, but I have neither the time nor the desire to criticize both genders on this issue. Besides, girls wearing pink makes sense.

As for the color scheme, I don’t know how you can look at yourself in the mirror and avoid vomiting all over yourself. I’m not what you would call a fashion guru, but I understand the aesthetically lacking qualities of pastel colored shirts. Perhaps you think you can seduce girls by blinding them with your flamboyantly bright shades of the rainbow. But let’s be honest, everyone’s favorite weapon of seduction is alcohol. Still, I can’t picture any girl saying, “Thanks, but no thanks… come back with a teal green shirt and maybe we can talk.” The most appalling of this trend is one specific, widely-worn color I could write volumes about. Yes, the color pink. Why any self-respecting dude would want to sport the same color as the six year old girls in my mom’s daycare is far beyond my comprehension. You claim it takes a real man to wear a pink shirt. Well, I say it takes an even bigger man to walk into a biker bar wearing that same shirt and walk out with all of his teeth still intact.

I, myself, am from Connecticut and have never seen such a trend among my peers. However, I’m told this entire concept originates from the New England area by wealthy Ivy League yuppies in the 1970’s. Well, here’s a reality check: this isn’t the disco era, this isn’t a New England based Ivy League university, and the only money you have belongs to your parents.

Look, I can put up with the plaid shorts for the time being, but please, let go of the rest. I implore you, future Graham Nortons of America, give up on this fashion. Just try performing this quick exercise to reach full enlightenment: Go to the mall and find one of those pink, collared shirts you adore so much. Hold it up to yourself in front of a mirror. Say to yourself, “Man, I would look so good in this!” Admire yourself for a few more minutes. Now, kick your own ass.

For anyone possibly offended or hurt by this blatantly opinionated article, I will accept any responses gladly and cordially… with a baseball bat.


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