I've been seeing you around town a lot lately. It appears that the rumors I heard earlier this year about you going back to your day job were false, and you are still going out every night getting sweaty on the dance floors of Los Angeles. You've left your old friends back at the dimly lit, gay friendly goth club, and have ventured out onto the red carpet with a new entourage of B-list celebrities. But I know the truth about you Vinyl Leggings. I know why you only come in black and why only Rihanna looks even passably good in you.
You are a cruel mistress, Miss Leggings. Even smart and normally stylish people are drawn to hold their breathes, clench their asses, and attempt to pull you on inch by inch. And even though the results aren't pretty, you have pulled the vinyl over their eyes. Maybe it's because they have to continue to hold their breath while wearing you that your victims feel like you make them appear slimmer, but those of us who haven't fallen prey to you know the truth. You caress every dimple of cellulite of every ass that has ever met you and you highlight every inch of what would otherwise be barely perceptible fat with a ray of black molten light that is terrifying to behold.
And as if that weren't enough, your betrayal of your new friends doesn't end there. In your endless lust for attention you have convinced these poor souls to let every inch of you be seen. Instead of hiding you under a dress like your cousin Cotton Leggings, these acolytes of the cult of Vinyl are wearing you with little t-shirts and tank tops that further reveal the havoc you have wreaked on their posteriors.
You must have slipped something into the Vodka Redbulls of stylists everywhere because they are saying all sorts of great things about you, that you are rock-star chic, versatile, and great for pairing with sweaters for a great "mix of textures". Maybe I'm just not chic enough to understand where you are coming from Vinyl Leggings... is there something more to you that I just don't understand? No! I wont allow you to pull me into your web of deceit. You must go I'm afraid. There isn't room in this town for the both of us, and there isn't room in you for anyone.
xoxo,
marion
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1 comment:
Well stated. Thank you.
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