The Dreadful FFP’s

Since I touched on the subject of a fashion faux pas in yesterday’s post, why not just share the whole lot? Here are the top six FFP’s, frequently spotted in the tropics, that make me cringe!

1. The “tunic or dress” question
There is a fine line between a tunic (a long loose top meant to be worn with a bottom) and a dress, but my daily commute up and down Orchard Road tells me that this line is habitually blurred. So let me draw that line again – right at the tip of the second knuckle on your middle finger. If you have to ask yourself the “tunic or dress” question, go with the former and put on a bottom. You want to be well-dressed, not half-dressed.

2. I see London, I see France…
The temperature here gives girls good reason to embrace camisoles, sheer tops, and skirts of the short and tight variety. Without good reason, however, some ladies forget that outerwear should dictate the underwear. If clothes could speak: the white summer top would beg not to be outshone by the black bra underneath; the spaghetti strap would shudder to share a shoulder with unsightly bra straps; and the hip-hugging skirt would cry for the help of a thong underwear to rid it of panty lines. Bottom line (no pun intended): your underwear should be visible to your boyfriend in your bedroom, not to hapless uncles sharing your subway car.

3. The difference between night and day
Unless you work in a fashion boutique or tend bars for a living, you should be acquainted with a class of clothing known as office wear. I work(ed) in an investment bank, a real button-up institution occupying the “business formal” end of the office wear spectrum. Yet still, I spy girls drifting in and out of the office wearing colors, shapes, and fabrics belonging to the night. Strappy dresses, stiletto sandals, satin, and sequins belong in Attica, not in Accounting.

4. Nailing down the problem
As a life-long nail biter I’m fully sympathetic of the female yearning for long, lean, and polished nails. Make that REAL nails. All grace is lost when acrylic nails, super glue, and paste-on flowers enter the picture. Not only do fake gems on plastic tips spell “trashy” faster than you can point a finger, they also ruin the sheen of your natural nails and can cause fungal infections. Next time you’re at the salon, opt for a buff color or a French. That spells “classy” to me.

5. The sin of maximization
I adore the busy, bright sartorial trimmings that mark the boho-chic era, but when I’m visually assaulted by “trend overload” (which is often) I get nostalgic for the minimalist aesthetic of the 1990s. I can compromise — a single oversized silk flower atop a blouse or a seemingly effortless draping of necklaces each makes for a fashion statement in its own right. A fashion disaster in its own right is a ruffled cardi over a floral-print top, paired with a pleated skirt, topped off by a wide belt and bangles that can build biceps. There are no hard and fast rules in fashion, but please, one trend at a time.

6. Human tights abuse
While I’m traveling down memory lane I might as well rewind to the 1980s, a time when leotard-and-tights aerobics instructors epitomized fashion. In recent years, a flock of starlets (Lindsay, Mischa, and the Olsen Trolls) has very publicly campaigned for a revival of leggings. Though spandex can be comfortable and chic when it hugs the well-proportioned thighs and calves of Hollywood, it’s a deeply unflattering look for 80% of the general female population. I’m by no means large, but every time I consider encasing my legs in a pair of tights for purposes not related to sports or thermoregulation, I remind myself that only DuPont benefits from this display of misplaced confidence. Read my lips: spare tires belong in car trunks and camel toes, well, on camels.

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2 thoughts on “The Dreadful FFP’s

  1. a few things:
    -I second the hatred for acrylic nails
    -I thought you were pro-tights (and have been trying to convince myself for the past year to get into them)
    -I am relieved that you solved for the tunic/dress problem with a knuckle measurement rather than distance from the ground. The latter would kill me, and I already feel like a hoe riding the mrt with skirts/dresses that are definitely within the knuckle guidelines 😉

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