Monday Morning Fug

By no means do I consider myself a fashionista. In fact, I will readily acknowledge that I tend to display... questionable... fashion sense. I often snicker internally about the fashion fouls that I see on a daily basis, but it is rare that I actually get the urge to grab a violator, shake him/her, and scream "WHAT are you wearing??"

I felt that urge this morning.

As I passed by Starbucks on my way to work, consciously fighting its thrall, I looked up and witnessed what can only be referred to as a disturbing throwback to my 3rd-grade yearbook. A grown woman was wearing a denim skirt that appeared to be the bottom half of a JEANS JUMPER, the top half of which was covered by a pink and white, patterned, sweater-like monstrosity. She accessorized with a lovely pair of white tights, scrunch-socks, and a pair of frighteningly LA Gearish high-topped sneakers (does LA Gear even EXIST anymore?). She topped it all off with a perm, mall bangs (you know, the poofy kind, held up by sheer willpower and a gallon of Aqua Net), and a SCRUNCHIE. A SCRUNCHIE!

Ladies and gentlemen, the 80s are back with a vengeance in Dupont Circle. God help us all.