by Sally and Sallie

Did anyone see the Gucci fall/winter collection? It looked like the love child of Captain Jack Sparrow and Mary Kate Olsen. For the most part, Whitman seems to have avoided the most offshoots of the bohemian chic fad, with mixed results. We’ve been denied the opportunity to bitch about a bunch of Olsenites, but honestly, we’d prefer you even tried. We’re stuck in a wheel-rut between balls-to-the-wall granola and sorority girls that think they fell out of a fucking teen movie. Both call for a time machine set to 1992. Bridges should work on that.

In other news, Sally and Sallie (us) are your new saviors. We’re blowing this shit up. You have no idea how much we know about fashion. And style. And Gossip. We’re going to turn this column into the Star Magazine of Whitman College. Hold on to your asses, ass holders.

This being our very first installment, we’d like to set the tone: incisive, demeaning criticism of everything that you wear, all the boys and girls you date, the fat TKE (or DG) you made out with last weekend, and the shitty cocktails you drink in the Jewett lounge.

So, to kick us off, congratulations. You, like so many other twenty-something-year-olds, have a pair of Rock and Republics and parents who are not on welfare. Speaking of welfare, dressing like you’re poor as fuck is not stylish. There’s a difference between shopping for flannel at the thrift store because you’re skinny and take your nose “skiing” all the time, and looking like that homeless guy Sallie spit on that one time in Brooklyn (OMGZ!). Not that we’re knocking flannel across the board, but Thrift-Land is best for accessorizing. Know when to stop. Back to your boot-cut R&Rs. We have several problems with them.

Buy the right size. Girls, when your jeans are two sizes too small and the pockets bend, fold under and go “snap” every time you take a step, we cry for you at night. Sizing up can actually make you look slimmer, so shed some of your checkout-line pride and admit you’re a size bigger. Guys, you have the opposite problem. When you buy a pair of Calvin Kleins and think you’re the shit, you shouldn’t be able to fit your fist in between you and the waistband. That doesn’t mean you have to wear skinny jeans and scarves, but you’ve got to find a happy medium between those JNCOs you wore in eighth grade and your sister’s leather hot pants you used to wear as a joke. Levi 511s haven’t been skinny since 2003. Let your balls drop and get over it.

Unfortunately, we don’t have time to finish talking about your denim this week, so we’ll try to throw in thoughts throughout the next few issues. Also, look forward to a break-down of Halloween Hook-Ups, and a scathing look at Whitman’s Hipsterati, including a countdown of the Hipster Top 15.

See you at the Leonetti release, bitches.