The fashion world has resurrected the crop top and I’m running for cover…

The fashion world has resurrected the crop top and I’m running for cover…

We’re caught in a big freeze, a winter wonderland of Bing Crosby imaginings. It is cold, slushy and wet but yet somehow beautiful; sky’s ultimate orchestra.

Snowy road

As a result of this arctic anomaly, people are donning layers from thermals to bobbled hats; woollen socks to balaclavas. But in spite of this the shops are full of clothes for the spring. Mannequins are now wearing skimpy dresses, thigh length skirts and vests. When looking for a jumper you will now find a blouse. Need a pair of trousers, try on these shorts for size. Or perhaps a pair of shoes is what you need, will these sandles do?

I don’t understand it. Do retailers and fashion designers not look outside? Just because fashion has their ‘seasons’ or cycles does it mean that everything warm has to disappear? Are they somehow under the impression that because they have produced a lacy, see-through nylon number that the sun will bat all the clouds and rain away and take its rightful place in the sky? Do they not realise Ireland doesn’t actually have bloody seasons?

Perhaps they know more than I do though seeing as while trudging through a snow shower last night I spotted two women, dolled up for a night out. Coatless, hatless and gloveless (a condition I would rather rent my womb out for, rather than be in at the moment) and in 6 inch heels they walked or more hopped protesting at it being ‘baltic’. Instead of seeing a grim evening of artic proportions when looking out their window they must have seen a beach in Rio. Did they actually mistake a window for a poster?

Crop top

To top it off I read today that crop tops are back. Crop tops? The only people that should wear crop tops are, well, nobody. It is half a t-shirt. It’s a top that was measured wrong. It’s a piece of clothing that ran out of fabric. The problem is people will be wearing them because they are in the shops. A shorn piece of fabric dangling from hangers that girls and women will flock to and dare to wear out. Any hint of sun will see Dublin filled with oyster and orange coloured stomachs and bellies not knowing what they have done to be put on show, not knowing quite where to bend or fall. It will be a flesh fest. One in the same line as guys who take off their t-shirts in a rare blast of heat and wander around M&S.

I think a prayer may be in order. To delay this inevitable fashion infliction. One to the snow or hailstone gods to please stick around for a bit longer….

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