Zack:Jude Law versus the army of Shaka Zulu
Dr. Thorpe:"You have failed to protect the Queen. Turn in your big tall hat immediately and report to the runway."
Zack:They took his hat, they took his musket, they took his badge, but they'll never take his ridiculous facial hair.
Dr. Thorpe:This is a real clash of cultures because on one hand he looks like a British soldier, and on the other hand he's got a Conquistador beard. And then of course he's got a purse. Like a goddamned woman. He's Ms. Chauncey Cortez
Zack:He's also wearing a turtleneck, which leads me to believe that he is going to post on his live journal about how much crrrrrap he's got in his purse and how he hates digging around in it when the 18th Fusiliers are battling the Aztecs. What he really needs is more piping. There is way too much negative space on that uniform of his. I want to see some brass buttons and little tin medals. I want to see some pizzazz!
Dr. Thorpe:Compared to some of the other clothes in this collection, he looks almost tasteful, aside from the beard. But when you take away the context of the other Etro clothes, I think if I saw this guy on the street I'd probably throw eggs at him with my hooligan friends.
Zack:I bet his purse is just full of books he's never read by James Joyce and Foucault. He's hurrying to a coffee shop to take them out and page through them until the girl behind the counter notices him.
Dr. Thorpe:And asks him "what the fuck is with the beard?" It's a good attention-getting device, I guess, even if it makes people instinctively want to harm you.
Zack:It's a conversation piece, definitely. It's like a ridiculous facial piercing only it takes years to grow and you look really stupid until you reach that point. By "that point", I mean to say you never stop looking stupid.
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Fashion SWAT... the fashion industry is obsessed with impracticality. We know that what designers create was never meant to be worn by the grimy masses, but that doesn't somehow diminish how ridiculous many of these costumes are. Make no mistake, they are costumes, and like a Halloween prize pageant we will turn our discerning gaze on the grievous fashion misfires of Paris, Milan, and New York. We're not pulling any punches, and we're definitely not interested in making any friends. We're Joan Rivers without Melissa Rivers to temper our screeching. We're the Fashion Police in jack boots. We are Fashion SWAT.