Wow, and I thought Dad-shorts was bad. I’m ready to burn out my retinas.
I was on the 6 train, minding my own business and we stopped at 68th Street. Two girls got on the train. One of them was wearing a blazer, button-down, and tie. Okay, I thought, I could get on board with this outfit. Maybe lose the tie, or switch the button-down for a tee, but otherwise, okay, she did alright here. Then I saw the rest of it.
Black tights, black boots.
What’s that? I didn’t mention pants? Or a skirt? Or shorts? YEAH, I KNOW! Oh, that’s right. SHE WASN’T WEARING PANTS! These weren’t black leggings. These were black tights. I could see the sheen of her thigh through them. And her shirt was NOT long enough to cover up much of anything.
And do you want to know just how I know they were tights, definitively, no questions asked? I happened to be sitting under the map and Pantless and her friend needed to figure out what stop to get off at. So she leaned forward…and she crotched me right in the face. Yeah, I said it. I got a nice little glimpse of Skimpy’s crotch. And it’s not like her friend didn’t have a clue either. She was wearing jeans and a normal shirt. Good for her. But my eyes are forever scarred by this image:
For your benefit, I’ve circled this crime against fashion (and my pupils). And believe me, I tried (and failed) to get a more clear shot of this atrocity, but trust me, this too benefits you.