Zack:Major urban areas tend to be on the cutting edge of fashion. Trend-setters congregate in large numbers and there is a push to embrace new styles and new counter-culture elements. This can often lead to abject stupidity.
Dr. Thorpe:Everyone knows that the cutting edge of fashion isn't in some haughty Parisian couture shop. It's right here on the streets, where Zack and I live the tough life day in and day out, rhyming and stealing and pushing weight and just trying to make it through this grand hustle one day at a time. This week, we pay tribute to the real fashion.
Zack:It may be hard out there for a pimp, but all signs indicate that the pimp has no one but himself to blame. Big shout out to all of the amateur fashionistas over at Street Style. Without their daring contributions to tragedy made cloth, there would be no Fashion SWAT today.
Zack:I always thought vacuums came free with a woman's skirt. That floor is a mess.
Dr. Thorpe:The look on his face seems to say, "yeah, fuck you, it's a skirt. All my pants are in the wash."
Zack:I think he looks like an escaped mental patient who snuck onto a rapper's tour bus and stole some clothes to blend in.
Dr. Thorpe:I can't discern any detail on that coat. It's like a black hole. Light cannot escape it. It's just a huge shapeless mass of darkness.
Zack:He spent all his sock money on that coat
Dr. Thorpe:He spent all his pants money on gold chains.
Zack:He didn't have a lot of pants money.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
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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.