Photograph by ALEX DE MORA

My Tracksuit Love Affair

Juicy Couture is back and I want some!

Specifically, I want a plush Juicy Couture bootcut leg pant and matching jacket, aka a tracksuit.

Remember? Paris Hilton’s 2002, go-to L.A. uniform? I know. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a ”girlfriend” or a “cool mom” and I certainly don’t to want wear those terrible cut-off denim shorts with my uterus hanging out, but I just feel this gravitational pull to this staple, recapturing my racy, rebellious ‘90s style.

Diamanté embellished jackets, matching cargo pants, jogger pants and jumpsuits. Some would call them comfort clothes. I’m just obsessed and want to get my ample ass into one of these hot numbers.

Last year, French label Vetements (say “VET-mont” for cocktail party designer name dropping) brought Juicy Couture to Paris fashion week where it debuted a 55-look collection that included many collaborations, including Champion, Levi’s and Juicy. Vetements wisely made the collaborating companies do ALL the work, jacked up the going price, bloggers went nuts for the news and waiting lists opened. One piece — it is COUTURE after all — was retailing for close to $2.5k.

Luckily, I’m resourceful and extremely cheap. I found that Topshop and Century 21 stores have stockpiled the poor-door versions for kids and old fashion thugs, like me. (They’re also online)

I rushed over to Century 21 armed and ready. I started the slow shimmy, switched on mood music — “Gonna Make You Sweat” by C&C Music Factory — in my fitting room and I tried to get the pants on first. It was tragic. They were not even clearing my buttocks. They wouldn’t budge or stretch. I could also hear the pants saying: “I see you’ve been eating whatever you want and you haven’t done your 10,000 steps today, bitch.” The quads were howling. I just left them midway.

I pulled up the “J” zipper pull on the jacket, bowing down, stuffing, pounding and squishing myself into the top while introducing my boobs to my chin. And then I noticed the fabric appeared to be separating. I mean, I was the 5’2”, pink Incredible Hulk. Oy-fucking-vey.

I felt myself hot flashing. I managed to reach for the “J,” unzipped the jacket and readjusted my organs. Grown-up me decided to step, the hell, away.

Lesson: You should never buy anything that doesn’t fit and move, no matter how hot, cool or newish it may be. Looking like a clown is never trending. Vaudevillian is not good either.

Great style can be had just as long as you’re comfortable. I’m not saying to dress like a matron. I’m saying I think we’ve all lived enough to know how to just say no.

What a dumb-ass I am for falling for this trendy shit. I was just relieved to be breathing again. And I’m good.

At least until the boned Madonna corsets return.

 

Photograph by ALEX DE MORA