Tacky. The word alone is judgemental. In a world of elegant shapes and complimentary colour palettes, those who take it too far are all too often dismissed with pitying dismay by the supposedly more in-the-know dressers. How do I know this? Behind my smile I can be harsher than an overworked Anna Wintour, and that’s on a good day. Although a fan of all things fabulous, my resistance to flamboyant dressing is not so high as to allow me to overlook monstrosities such as Cher’s ensemble for the 1986 Oscars. The claws come out, believe me. Why, you may ask, do I feel this right to deign what others wear as ‘tacky’ or OTT, am I merely a fashion snob? I’ve always preferred the more tasteful approach to dressing, colours that work together and materials generally considered as normal. Wearing a dress made of stuffed toys has never appealed to me (strange, I know). Whilst I’m quite confident in my attitude towards dressing, what if I’ve actually mistaken boring for good taste?
The mantra ‘less is more’ is readily accepted as one to adhere to where dressing is concerned, and while it generally wins in the fashion stakes this may be because it’s also the safest option. Much as I’d like to say otherwise, perhaps the more elegantly attired are in fact the more cowardly. Fashion is all about experimenting after all. Fashionistas like Alexa Chung and Olivia Palermo are always immaculately presented and thus a hit with the masses, yet there’s something to be said for the stars that create debate and split opinions with their outrageous outfits. So while I will never credit any sort of fashion taste towards the likes of Katie Price (and you can hold me to that), perhaps stars such as Nicki Minaj deserve some praise for their daring looks. Even if it almost physically pains me to say so. Don’t get me wrong, if you choose to wear an outfit consisting of neon green and pink tartan tights, with a blue and orange pleated skirt, a top made entirely of multi-coloured pompoms and what appears to be TWO hairstyles in one (yes Nicki, we’re looking at you), one is justified in being slightly aghast. And if not aghast, at least mentally scarred. Yet I’ve come to realise that, although I would never try anything like it myself, it may just be that my life would be lacking without the beautifully crazy wardrobes of GaGa, Minaj et al. I’ll continue to covet the tasteful choices of the fashion elite, whilst not-so-secretly revelling in the bold and brash ensembles of those braver than myself. I mean, I’m just looking.
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