Zackula: This is why I support the Tea Party. I don't care about their platform or anything, but I get the feeling that if they win there will be less of this.

Dr. Thorpenstein: Somehow, they didn't quite nail the authentic rapper look. I think the guy who designed this costume saw like 30 seconds of Yo! MTV Raps in 1993 and based it on his foggy recollections.

Zackula: It looks like it's based on the costume of some guy who has one line in a Die Hard movie and he shouts it as a filthy Bruce Willis does something intense.

Zackula: "Yo, I didn't order extra crispy!"

Zackula: *Bruce Willis drives a burning van past on two wheels*

Dr. Thorpenstein: It's not so much a rapper as an Italian guy who works at a cheesesteak shop in Philly.

Zackula: Yeah, I can totally picture this kid puking up vodka Red Bulls in a Jersey City strip club parking lot.

Dr. Thorpenstein: It has so few rap signifiers to go on. He doesn't have a mic or anything. What if the kid accidentally turned the hat forward? It wouldn't even be a costume anymore. It would just be a kid who made some stupid clothes choices.

Dr. Thorpenstein: Just a kid with a fake chain and pee-proof rubber pants.

Zackula: And that doesn't even look like a rap medallion, it looks like the kid is wearing the logo for some 30-minute celebrity gossip show on a chain around his neck.

Zackula: "I'm Tosh Yardby and this is Jussyka Sulvo and this is Tha QT."

Dr. Thorpenstein: He's also throwing up the worst gang sign and rap face imaginable. He pretty much looks like he's doing the iconic "retard" impression with the goofy hand and tongue out and everything.

Zackula: It's what white people think cool rappers dressed like 20 years ago by way of lowest-bidder Chinese slave labor factories. If there's any justice in this world that medallion is going to make a bunch of little white kids sterile.

Dr. Thorpenstein: Well, look at it this way: ain't no six-year-olds getting any pussy when they look this wack.

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About This Column

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.

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