However, I happen to be very partial to bows. Even big ones. Eighteenth century, I’m blaming you to start! (Bustles and Neoclassical Revival are hot second and third.) I don’t even mind my butt, so I don’t mind a big bow parked on it. What I AM particular about is cut and proportion, and a large bow needs a reason, and a proportion, to be parked wherever it happens to be parked. But in and of itself, I don’t have a problem with that particular design feature, nor with wearing it. It often appears in conjunction with a design made popular (and snarked now by association) in the 1980s: fitted below-the-waist bodice, V neck, poufy sleeves, full gathered skirt.

The sad thing, of course, is that many of those elements have the potential to be the most universally flattering design elements for a motley collection of ladies (with the possible exception of the shoulderpadded poufy sleeve). The V-neck? Good. The FITTED bodice (princess-line, fits the bosom, smooth over the narrow part of the waist and the upper hip) – is vital for hourglasses and pears, workable with rulers and Vs. The very full gathered skirt? Hides a multitude of shins. The butt bow? Back detail on a garment, when most of the party has its back to the gathering, is not a bad thing. Nor is attention focused on butts, actually. And there are many, many ladies who prefer Wearing Sleeves to Not Wearing Sleeves (although they would generally prefer something other than Shoulderpadded Poufy Sleeves, these days at least).

The problem is that all these inherently GOOD things can go horrifyingly wrong, if they are executed poorly, made cheaply, or out of bizzarro fabric. I won’t specify the bizzarro fabric, but if it looks as if it was made with $2-a-yard satin, it’s not going to look as well as it might. Also, if the fitted elements DON’T fit, it’s just another ugly bag dress, and you might as well wear a Hefty lawn bag, which at least you could use later for bagging leaves. Proportion, fit, fabric – they’re all important.

I’ve decided that their designers must be 40-year-olds (like us) who, instead of being creative, just sent their junior-high textbooks to China with directions to “make clothes like these.”

Stirrup pants are only the beginning, people.

I also saw a photograph of me walking around on two elongated triangles as the stirrup pants went from my larger-than-life thighs to my feet. Not a pretty site!

I repented then. Don’t send me back to that dark and evil place.

Luv
Poochie