Fashion Fails: Bogan Style

Hello all! Another Monday. Another Confession. This week Kirsty has asked us to share our most humorous post. I wasn't sure which one of mine to choose considering they are all  pretty ordinary comedy gold but judging from the comments, this one seemed to elicit a few laughs. So for the second time around, I present my Bogan Fashion Fails. You're welcome!

This week the illustrious Lounge Lizards have us talking fashion. It tends to strike me that 90 percent of the fashion I spot on the telly or in magazines looks completely and utterly hideous even on tall, slim, stunning models.  I shudder to think what it might look like on me. Perhaps it's a blessing that I can never afford it anyway. Therefore I've cultivated a certain look and style of my own. I like to refer to it as - Bogan Chic.

Once upon a time I delighted in clothes shopping.  This was some 20 years ago when I could dress in clinging black lycra, unperturbed by the thought of any bumps and bulges. Or a tragic combo of hot pants and doc martins. Observe.

 

The only snap I could find of
this alluring attire appears to
have something stuck on it
which I couldn't get off, but you
get the idea.

 

Actually this is not strictly true, as  I used to worry unduly about being supposedly 'fat'. Pah! I didn't know the meaning of the word.  I have since discovered it though.

Anyway, it's always interesting, when I go to the local shopping mall here in Boganville.  The are many badly dressed, unattractive people there.  I fear I am one of them.  Then I catch a glimpse of myself in a shop window and my fears are realised.

I notice that my backside is astonishingly large.  This always comes as a tremendous shock, as when I dress, I tend to only look at myself front on to avoid reality.  Side on, I also look distinctly pregnant.

Then, inevitably, some old dear, at least 85 in the shade, will hobble past on a walking frame, wearing an identical shirt to mine.  Millers.  Size 16. On Sale.  This once horrified me. The fact that I no longer care is evidence that:

a) I  am getting old

b) I am getting fat (oh okay, I already am fat), and

c) I am too broke to have any choice in the matter, anyway.

 

Other Bogan Chic Tit Bits. Or is it Tid bits? Or is it not even an expression at all? Who knows. Let's just call them Bogan Fashion Tips then, shall we? Fine. They are:

• I mostly wear black, as I am a fatty boombah.  Sadly no amount of black can disguise my double chin.  Okay, chins.
• I don't  do pink, frilly or sequins. Ugh.
• I don't do white. I am fat, fair skinned and a Mother. Enough said.
• Jeans are over rated. Skinny jeans are probably single handedly responsible for many an eating disorder. Not to mention how inconvenient they are if you are ever in the habit of say, for example, sitting down. Which I am. Frequently. Which is probably half of the reason that I cannot wear skinny jeans. The other half of the reason is that, when I am sitting, I am usually eating cake. Meh, details.
• I simply detest bras. Luckily I was always small breasted, so therefore I was able to get away with not wearing them for many years. Those days are over. Now that I have droopy National Geographic boobs, I need the best push-up bra I can get my hands on. That, or a boob job. Hard to figure out which is the more expensive and painful of the two.
• Trackies and polar fleece jumpers and jackets are the most unchic, unflattering, daggy clothes ever known to the human race. They are also the most toasty warm when I'm freezing my butt off, as well as being affective contraception. So, who cares. I am a bogan after all.

 

Now, onto some more of my Fashion Fails. Check these out. And while we're at it, whoever stole my twenty something body, can you please return it. Pronto. Obviously the fact that it has disappeared to be replaced by something resembling a Teletubby has nothing to do with the afore mentioned cake eating. No way. It must be some sinister type invasion of the body snatchers super natural thing. Only possible explanation.

Me, as Morticia. That's my Dad hovering
protectively next to me, possibly reluctant to let
me leave the house dressed like that.

And now for something completely different.

My 'Laura Ashley just
threw up all over me' look. Lovely.

 

Continuing the floral theme, I appeared in public wearing this.

The early 90's look of
high waisted jeans and
a body suit. Floral of
course. So sweet. A
poodle perm completed the look.

A gorgeous floral blouse, primly buttoned
right up to my throat. My Mum's spoon
collection in the background. Nobody collects
spoons anymore. Or wears hideous floral blouses.
Sad, really.

This next one is especially for Mumabulous. She is not the only one who could rock an emerald green taffeta frock.

Dressed like a Bridesmaid, but not actually
a Bridesmaid. I was just ducking out to the
shops for some milk.

When I met Micky Blue Eyes, the bogan chic tradition continued unabated. This one speaks for itself.

Micky Blue Eyes and I wearing
clothes that appear to have been
made from hotel bedspreads or
curtains. His shirt, my pants.

Following this lovely 'Best Western Bogan Chic' style, I went onto my next

stunning look. Wearing clothes that resembled table cloths. Not to mention ridiculous bloody hats. But I'm a ranga, I have no choice! Especially when visiting places like Darwin, which is where that shot is taken.

 

 

Breathtaking Darwin scenery. Not so breath-
taking shirt and hat.

 

 

 

 I had to survive the heat somehow. Similarly, when it was cold I had this absurd notion that I should keep warm and wear silly jumpers.

Stupid jumper, leggings and
boots and a stupid expression
on my face. The wombat attached to
my leg was also a unique fashion accessory

It's hard work being
this stylish.

Or an attractive combo of a turtle neck and - wait for it, a pinafore. I couldn't find a full length shot. But you get the idea.

Of course. with that track record of fashion flair, once I became a Mum I was really onto this whole 'Yummy Mummy' thing. As you can see, below.

At my bogan best. Comatose in trackies, clutching
my similarly comatose infant.

 Imagine my delight to discover that Miller's currently has a sale on, so I can continue the bogan tradition of bedraggled frumpiness. I like the sound of that. Bedraggled frumpiness. A shame that the sight of it isn't so becoming.

Linking up for The Lounge which is being hosted this week by Slapdash Mama Sarah.

 

Also linking up with Cathy from The Camera Chronicles for Flashback Friday.

 

 

 

What are your most memorable 'fashion fails'?