Move Over Street Style Photographers, Street STYLISTS Are Now All the Rage (AKA- The Latest Tactics in Catcalling)

There was a time when I really wanted to be a street style photographer. There were only two problems, 1) I had no skills with photography nor did I own a high-quality camera and 2) I had no style.  Beyond those two things, there was really nothing between me and that dream.  For those unfamiliar, street style photography is where photographers go out onto the street and take pictures of stylish people. So. Much. Style.

It was almost as if clothing were made not for agoraphobic heiresses munching decades old wedding cake but  for people that might do things like buy groceries, make  a pharmacy run, go to a friend's house , or other activities that require one to go out on the street.   Well my friends,  the time for street style is BLEAK according to Fashionista and I believe it. Here's why.

A new and exciting trend has emerged on the streets of New York where men give free (ie- unsolicited) fashion and beauty tips to lucky ladies that pass their way!   For example, the other day I was walking home from a trip to the beach in a pair of shorts and a tank top.  The shorts look approximate like this from American Apparel.   Linked if you want em and you're a copycat.

redshorts

A kindly street stylist yelled, "Girl, you look good but those shorts are too short."

Bless the dear man's heart for alerting me to my fashion faux pas!  After all, when walking down Ocean Parkway toward my home covered in sand and carrying a food co-op tote bag, I am trying my best to impress and to please, and if God wills it so, to find a suitable bridegroom with whom I can have many strong sons with Old Testament names.

Meghan has chanced upon two street stylists recently, one giving beauty tips and the other affirming fashion choices.  Their expertise is eclectic, you see. I am paraphrasing but the one regarding beauty tips went something like this:

Beauty Boy: "Damn girl, you're beautiful."  (Or some variation of the same idea.)

Meghan  *Stoic silence*

Beauty Boy: Oh except one thing, you should really fix that eyebrow scar.

Now everyone knows that nothing makes a lady feel great quite like having a flaw pointed out to her.  It's just a little penny from Heaven on an otherwise lackluster day to be reminded, not only are you not perfectly symmetrical, but there's even more wrong with you!  Now, get thee to a laser specialist before your street stylist throws more sass your way!

Another street stylist who was super stealthy inched up behind her (the way good friends do) and whispered, "Hey I like you in them peach pants" straight into her ear.  Because besties do that for each other, they share compliments and secrets in EXTREMELY CLOSE PROXIMITIES.  The peach pants look like this:

He wasn't wrong.

Now it's true that Meghan looks good in those peach pants and it's important that the critical be mixed with the positive if you're going to be an exceptional street stylist.  Which is why I was deeply thankful for an encounter with a man who mixed a little of both in his reaction to a particular shade of lipstick I had chosen.

He said, "Those red lips looks nice."

I replied, "Thank you."

He paused a moment and said, "But you know, they're a little smudged."

Seeing as it was 2am and we had been out dancing in a sweaty place playing bad 90s pop (just kidding, no such thing), I HAD NO IDEA that my make-up might not be up to his standards.  I looked about like this with slightly more smudging cause it was an hour or so later:

Obviously trying really hard to impress.

I replied that I knew, that it was late, and that happens to make-up to which he replied "Will you kiss my shirt?" You see, the best street stylists will sometimes play role reversal where you get to give them a signature item or look that makes them street-style worthy.  Because I am a killjoy, I did not oblige because I hate to steal thunder AND because this is actually a piece of satire on how gross it is that men on the street are insulting women to bring them down a notch as a means of flirtation and gross objectification.  Feminist killjoy, at your service!

And apropos of nothing but the fact that I think we look fucking awesome in it, here are me and Meghan looking like mafia widows at a wedding a few weeks ago with absolutely nothing fucking wrong with us that needs to be pointed out.  Except maybe my favorite street stylist suggestion, "SMILE!"  Just kidding, that makes me want to chew broken glass.

If you tell us to fucking smile, there's no telling what will happen.