Striped frenzy.

It is very interesting going out in Boston.

Actually, maybe interesting isn't the right word.

You see, people in NY have style for the most part. So do people in LA. I am not proclaiming myself the avatar of high fashion, but the point is, in those two cities - and in most cities in general - I look around and am not visually offended, even if I disagree with trucker hats and Uggs and mini mini skirts and skinny scarves. People manage to pull it off with a measure of panache, and that's cool.

People in Boston wouldn't know style if it hit them over the head with a billy club.

Take, for example, Saturday night. I went out with my friend, Nicky (who is male, just so you don't get confused), who spent his last two years in Europe where he played pro soccer. Can you say GOOD BODY? Mm. And the first place we went to, I was assured, was a relatively cool place to hang out. And apparently other people thought so too - when we left at 1AM to go elsewhere, there was a massive sea of people waiting to get in. You'd think that if anywhere, people at "trendy" clubs - even in Boston - would be well-dressed.

HAH.

We won't address the female population. Suffice it to say it looked like they ran into Bebe or some store like that on their lunch break, picked up the first thing they saw, regardless of whether or not it fit, and threw it on. It wouldn't be so noteworthy - there are bad dressers everywhere - but just the sheer quantity of poor taste astounded me.

But what was far far worse were the guys. It was already bad enough that everywhere I looked last summer guys were in pale blue button-down shirts tucked into their khakis. And they all had crew cuts. All the guys. Cookie cutter replications of one another. It was like they had all come out of the same factory.

Apparently in the last year, however, they all discovered the marvel of a magazine that is GQ. And did you know that Striped Shirts Are In?! They've gotta be, because it was like Thomas Pink and Paul Smith had mated while on acid and then vomited everywhere. (And normally, I love Thomas Pink and Paul Smith.) Not only were the shirts striped, they were OBNOXIOUSLY striped. Bold pukeworthy stripes. In varying colour combinations and thicknesses and orientations. If I had been any drunker, I'd have incurred motion sickness due to all the bold stripes weaving about - sometimes even on the same shirt.

It didn't help that I also saw a lot of guys wearing belts that were cinched too tight, with their cell phone on a holster. Just STUPID. It looks AWFUL. Do you think you look cool with your cell phone out on display? Because let me be the first one to tell you that you DON'T.

Actually, maybe the guys read somewhere that stripes can make you look taller, as I realised that I could look most of the guys straight in the eye. In heels I barely hit 5'8. But that's more the fault of genetics than bad taste. I think.

It was just a pathetic scene. Trying to be trendier-than-thou only works if you have the wherewithal to pull it off, which guys in Boston just don't. This is going to be a very painful year for drinking and going out, I can tell already. Because when I get drunk I get mouthy, and I'm going to have lots of fodder now.