Since my early childhood, I have harboured with me an unrequited love.
A love that has been bubbling in my veins for many years, unsatisfied and fierce – wailing for acknowledgement pitifully. A love that has been steadily ignored by those I clamoured to, despite my pleas and unrelenting fervour for it.
Last weekend, this love has finally been realised, the process of which rendered me back 15 years to a burbling, twitching fool. Crying, drooling, screaming and whooping, I faced my nemesis, soared through the air with a feverous glee and threw myself with ardour into oblivion – the pit of which embraced my deepest inner delight… yes, Jazz fans, this week I did realise my dreams (have you guessed it yet?) through a visit to ….
Hoo boy, and what a larf it was! And in amongst the low quality junk food, countless jittery visits to the bathroom and sheer white knuckle terror, I couldn’t help but notice my fellow theme park guests – what with them noshing that crap food at tables next to me, squirming in bathroom queues behind me and warming up the seats on the rides, allowing me to maintain the temperature in my derrière throughout the day.
Spending hours standing in close quarters to them as the queues for the rides inched forward wasn’t exactly the best experience of the day, and I must admit that to ease my boredom, I did find myself studying them in great detail. As you could imagine, on the man-made paths of the manufactured thrill village there was much scope for street style watching (if you could dub it thus), and yes – I am a bona fide sartorial pervert, so I couldn’t avert my eyes and judgement if I tried. Even those below the age of consent (of which there were a huge number, unsurprisingly) did not escape my beady, critical eyes. In between screaming myself hoarse as I hurtled off 250ft drops and ‘duelling’ zombies with plastic guns, I scoped, logged and wrinkled my nose beneath my sunglasses at many who stumbled by, who added to the creation of this hit list of theme park fashion fails – of which I desired to share with you, jazz fans.
Fashion Fail 1: Denim Shorts = Buttock Fall-out
This is a rule of truism, according to the hoards of teenage girls at Alton Towers. I’m sorry to say that this photo is not an actual person who encountered this fail, as I could not bring myself to be quite so blatantly critical – or risk dabbling in actual perversion by snapping shots of young ladies and their ACTUAL arses. This photo is a very subdued version of what I encountered on almost every ride queue; a face full of hanging buttock, their wobbly glory framed by frayed denim fringing.
On searching for photographic evidence of this fashion phenomena to demonstrate to you the inappropriateness of it, I found Anna Farris (of Scary Movie & My Super Ex-Girlfriend Fame, you know, those two highly respected cinematic experiences) to be sporting the same look, minus the denim.
Am I the only one have fallen behind in this trend? Am I the only one to still cherish the belief that buttocks should be kept at bay within the confines of shorts – or at the very least within a pair of pants? Perhaps it’s the new mating call of the 14 year old to their male counterparts (who I believe are super charged on easy access to internet pornography). It would certainly explain the abundance of young mothers wandering around the Towers…
Fashion Fail 2: Daytime Neon
Ok, so neon isn’t exactly my colour palette of choice, so perhaps I’m a little biased on this one. However, I’m sure most of you will agree that if neon is to be braved, it is to be done so with great gusto, and only at night – usually in the form of a costume or extreme club attire. In club lights, neon can be tacky fun. In daylight, however, neon just becomes abhorrent.
Especially when it’s worn in this format.
Replace the skirt with some of those denim fall-out shorts, and add some lack of tone to that belly and you’ve got the outfit of one ill-advised teenager strutting her stuff down by the popcorn pick and mix (they really had one of those – kind of purposeless, no?). Did her accompanying mum want her to look like a naff page 3 girl? I can only assume so…
I’m not even going to address the negatives of boob tubes; everyone knows the only stylish way to show torso is a few inches of ribcage. Bellies must go the way of buttocks – encased in material. It’s not that hard to achieve, girls!
Fashion Fail 3: Inappropriate footwear
Surely only a brainless infidel would consider stilettos as suitable footwear for a theme park?
I jest not.
Fashion Fail 4: Character tattoos
The tattoo in question was actually a Tasmanian devil with a halo and a devil sceptre. On the shoulder of a middle aged woman. Now, I don’t like to criticise tattoos generally, as I understand they are usually a very personal and often intensely meaningful show of dedication towards something or someone. With this in mind, however, I do question the ability of a human being to find a deep personal meaning within a mass marketed cartoon taz emblem, meant primarily as childish entertainment.
The number one rule of tattooing: Don’t get tattoos on a whim!!
The number two rule of tattooing: Don’t ever get a cartoon character, unless you want to endure years of children giggling and prodding at your body parts, and their disgusted parents forcing amused smiles at your apparent ‘wit’.
Fashion Fail 5: Matching outfits in a row
Now this is a real photo from the weekend; provided by the resident pervert on board for the rides (oo-er).
There’s really nothing wrong with this outfit; simple, pratical, casual – pretty dull, but a simple summer throw on.
The problem is just that however – it is AN outfit. One outfit xeroxed by the two blank slates either side… I’m not sure if it’s a teenage equivalent of those luminescent yellow waistcoats kids wear on school trips in order to be easily identified from afar, or if a lack of personality provokes them t ocreate fantasies in the mind of every man they pass by in their threesome. A marketing dream for pornography, really – they should have been carrying business cards to slip into the hands of every 14 year old who gawped at them approaching – and leaving.
For those interested, they were just as hot from the front… And clearly not British!
Fashion Fail 6: Ill-fitting clothes.
The general masses really fall at the first hurdle, I’m afraid. It’s actually begun to worry me, for clearly 40% of the British population suffer from bpdy dis-morphia if they think that the size 8 clothes that are causing them pain from cutting into their skin are presenting them as that size. It makes me sad…
Final Fashion Fail Collective: FLORALS
Why so MANY? Is there really no other option for summer? I get it – it’s cute, it’s pretty, it’s perfect for hot weather & looks sweet on tea dresses, shorts, tops, head scarves, maxi dresses… every fucking thing! But come ON, guys; from what I saw purely at the Towers, Topshop & Primark must resemble a botanical garden nursery hosting a funeral this season.
What these lovers of florals tend to forget that en masse it can be hella garish.
Imagine 10 mini Jessica Albas striding towards you, flouncing and cutesying it up in every single piece of clothing and accessory.
Now imagine they are having a lot of trouble pulling it off; (though I must say I find it doubtful that Jessica Alba manages either) at this point I would advise you to avert your eyes; the longer you stare, the more likely you are become dizzy from the overload of garden dwellers and vomit. If you must keep staring though, save that vomit for when they’re inches away – if any splashes on their tea dresses I can guarantee it’ll blend rather well, and probably improve the garment exponentially.
Thus ends my 7 fashion follies, fails, faux pas – whatever you deem it – of Britain’s finest theme park.
And here is the best dressed lady of the whole trip… Rita.
And on the topic of bootys – if you MUST indulge in the new trend of buttock fall-out, please use a little giselle inspiration rather than ill-fitting denim shorts…
— Jazzine, out.