America was a different place in 2004. The second President Bush was in the White House; Lindsay Lohan had a career, and Paris Hilton was parading around in flimsy, thousand-dollar halter dresses that would’ve looked more at home on a Contempo Casuals sales rack. Clearly, the world had gone mad — myself included. For the majority of college, I was the living embodiment of a Fashion Don’t. I don’t blame myself — or anyone who dressed like me — because we were living under some very toxic pop culture influences. (I mean, in the early 2000s, Beyoncé was forced to dress like a denim- and fur-clad triplet on the red carpet. BEYONCÉ.) So it is with tenderness that I recount the fashion sins I committed in college.
The Never-Been-to-California Beach Look
This look was a hangover from my high school days. I'm pretty sure I wore hemp and puka shells to low-key announce that I liked weed, Dave Matthews Band, and guys on skateboards.
There were several cultural influences at the time that reinforced my commitment to nature’s jewelry, though: The O.C. was in the middle of its run, and Hollister was threatening to destroy Abercrombie’s stronghold over East Coast youth. But on a personal level, I was very into beach vibes in the early 2000s. I listened to a ton of Sublime knock-off bands and vacationed "down the shore," returning to New York determined to keep that sandy, freedom feel alive at my Westchester college.
But I couldn’t quite fight off the influence of the East Coast — hence my pairing of the preppy Tiffany’s dog tag bracelet with a very chill California graphic tee, purchased at (you guessed it) Hollister. In the intervening years, teens have begun to reject logo tees (rightfully so), and Hollister has moved away from its ode-to-surf-culture style, as have I.
As for the unflattering sunglasses and the oversized watch, those belonged to a guy friend. I knew women could successfully rock traditionally male clothing and accessories, but in practice I often ended up looking more clueless than the collegiate men who let me raid their closets (hard to pull off, but I managed).
Madras Bermuda Shorts
In 2005, Abercrombie released this pattern in every cut imaginable. In 2007, I could finally afford to buy the cheapest, most unflattering of those cuts. Probably from eBay.
Now, I like madras. And I like plaid. What I don’t like — besides Bermuda shorts — is that I was so bombarded and subsequently obsessed with this seasonal trend that I chased it down two years after it died. I guess I needed closure or something? Trying so hard to fit in — especially during college, the one time you’re expected to be a freak of nature — isn’t just a fashion sin, it’s a life sin.
Layering with Abandon
There’s a lot going on here, so try not to get distracted by the crappy dye job or the…is that white eyeshadow? Anyway.
Here we have a jean skirt, white belt combo, which I’m sure would’ve made perfect sense were I not posing next to a snowman. You know that rule about not wearing white after Labor Day? It was invented to keep people like me in check. We don’t have the common sense to retire our summer wardrobe when it’s 10 degrees outside, so we need societally imposed boundaries to prevent us from mis-wearing our summer whites. (And skirts.)
Then we have the legwarmer problem. I lived through the first resurgence of '70s fashion — and barring any tragedies, will live through it a dozen times more — but '80s fashion, specifically legwarmers, were new territory for me in 2004. I remember stocking up on ‘warmers that winter and then staring mournfully at their home in my sock drawer, stumped on how to style them. As illustrated, I settled on wearing them like knee socks, minus the feet. I’m still not sure if this was an acceptable execution, but it was certainly a slap in the face to Flashdance.
This Whole Belt Situation
Ah, the mysterious, unnecessary floating belt. No function, no fashion. (See also: the impractical scarf.) My roommate/best friend was a master at cinching outfits with the floating belt, but I was more than a little lost when I tried to pull it off. Take, for example, this photo — this shirt was already cinched! It didn’t need a belt! But I tossed one on anyway because I was crazed, and also it matched my boots.
I can’t count the number of times I wore a functionless belt, but I do know that after overdoing that look for years, I can’t bring myself to belt anymore. I can’t even wear belts that are designed to pass through loops. If I buy a pair of pants that requires belting, I just wear a long shirt and hope for the best.
Lingerie-As-Clothing
In the mid-2000s, babydoll tanks were ubiquitous on my campus. I thought it was a cute look, but I was broke and fast fashion was just getting its legs. So I turned to the power of plastic and used my Victoria’s Secret card to purchase lingerie that could work double-time. That slip I’m wearing? It came with a matching thong. It’s an outfit ripped straight from a Degrassi episode.
I’ve owned and worn plenty of slips that were seemingly made for public consumption, but this was not one of them. If memory serves, I paired this one with black leggings (the cheap kind, probably). I’m sure more than one presidential candidate would consider such an outfit pornographic, which is almost incentive enough to give this style another try. Almost.
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