I used to think that spring was my favorite season because it meant it was finally warm enough to wear something other than sweaters and leggings, but without the humidity that makes my hair frizz. But recently, as I’ve been tearing through as many malls as possible looking for cute spring shit, I’ve realized that it is actually the tackiest season of all. I’m going to go out on a limb here and blame it on the fact that once spring rolls around, stores start trying to sell us fugly clothing covered in lace.
My eyes are already irritated enough from allergies (and I’m in a bad mood because I accidentally rubbed off my winged eyeliner), so the last thing I want to do is pick through a rack of lace overlay eyesores. It’s time for grown-ass betches to quit dressing like doilies and stop trying to make lace happen.
Lace clothing is kind of like the boxed wine of fabrics. Like, it definitely derives from something that was upscale at one point, but is now cheap and makes me want to vom upon first sight. Except the difference is that boxed wine actually has made me physically ill, but I still effing love it. Just like toting a box of Franzia around tells the world that you’re ready to black out, a lace bodycon dress screams “I have ‘classy, but a bit smart-assy’ with the bow emoji in my Instagram bio.”
The worst thing about lace clothing is that it’s always obvious that what you’re wearing probably wasn’t your first choice. Seriously, the only person who actually goes into a store (probably Charlotte Russe) looking for a “cute lace dress” is Tomi Lahren. Every single one of us has found ourselves in a fugly lace shift dress in the fitting room at the Topshop section of Nordstrom the night before an event at least once. It’s always a last cry after you’ve tried on a ton of dresses you actually wanted to wear but didn’t fit, and now your cleavage is semi-visible through a dress that Katherine Heigl might have been forced to wear in 27 Dresses.
The only thing more confusing than lace dresses is lace club wear. Whoever decided it was okay to get drunk and make out with a stranger wearing a bodysuit made from their grandmother’s tablecloth was seriously disturbed. It was probably initially an attempt to appear as if one is wearing as little clothing as possible while still actually wearing clothing, but now that the Kardashians rule the world, you can just wear a bra as a top and nobody will question you. There is literally no reason for this shit:
I guess my point is, stop wearing clothing that is made out of the same material as all of your underwear in an attempt to look classy. It’s 2017 and everyone can see your Snapchat stories. The gig is up.