More From The Shallow End

I was trying to space the frivolous posts apart, but the fact that this election year has sucked all my political will dry does make it harder: that, and the shopping trip I took yesterday which led me to a new conspiracy theory. (Dan Brown, feel free to steal this one.)

All major clothing manufacturers have fallen victim to the fine-honed brainwashing techniques of an evil European nobleman, Graf Splotch von Ruffel. Having been born with no innate fashion sense, von Ruffel in his early years traded polka-dot socks and striped pants for the lab coat of mad science. At set intervals, he drags his machinery from place to place (aided by his sidekick Ruche Shirson) and beams into designers’ heads ideas for clothes that are hideously overornamented, 1970s throwbacks much better left in the Three’s Company reruns, physically impractical if you don’t exist in two dimensions*, or all of these things.

It’s the only explanation I can think of why an otherwise snazzy pinstripe shirt would be decorated with the kind of pseudo-prairie ruffles Marcia Brady used to wear, or why those damned gathered-yoke shirts that make everyone look like they’re wearing their childhood nightgowns from the hips up are now in their second year of popularity.

If I were scripting this movie, von Ruffel would be soundly defeated in a climactic fight with the ghost of Audrey Hepburn, which he would lose because the gathered yoke of his lab coat got in the way of his arm movements.

*I reluctantly abandoned a top in a nice print that would have rendered me the star of a movie called Afternoon of the Boob Monster.

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