Friday, April 9, 2004 | 5:49 a.m.
Susan Snyder's column appears Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at [email protected] or (702) 259-4082.
WEEKEND EDITION
April 10 - 11, 2004
Ah. The rites of spring.
Pretty flowers. Sunny days.
Red pants.
I can only blame the ridiculous red capris hanging in my closet right now on spring. It brings out the best weather, but the worst taste.
The first couple of weeks of mild weather seems to bring out some of the worst fashion statements many of us make all year. In spring it's hard to tell the locals from the tourists who roam among the slots at Imperial Palace.
To anyone with sight, it is a well-documented fact that tourists will wear stuff here that they wouldn't be caught dead wearing at home. From the fit of some visitors' clothing, it seems many women are getting each other's luggage at McCarran International Airport by accident.
"Resort wear" is something one only resorts to wearing when one is certain no one she actually knows will see her. But spring draws locals into this fashion faux pas as the Strip draws Midwesterners in white pedal-pushers.
White pants are hard for even skinny people to pull off. But they are far from the worst violation in need of a citation by the taste police.
The first, worst sign of spring is bra straps. I don't want you to see mine, and I sure as sugar pops don't want to see yours.
Last week a company called Bra Straps Inc. sent out a press release touting its solution to unsightly shoulder slings: clear or decorative straps that replace the usual elastic strips.
Swell. We'll move a whole generation of women from "trashy" to "Trashy."
Don't care whether they're clear, beaded or 24-karat gold. When they're hanging out of a tank top or aren't covered by spaghetti straps, they look like underwear because, well, they are underwear.
And tube tops are not a good substitute if you are older than about 20.
Take the middle-aged woman we saw waiting for a table in a local restaurant Thursday night. Take her to a room with a mirror and make her say aloud five times that the tan tube top sliding down to her waist was the best choice she could have made that day.
When she sat down it looked like she had a pair of gophers on her lap.
Now I am no fashionista. I have a closet full of dorky shoes and sundresses that belong in a yard sale, but I love them just the same. Of course I wear them -- just not in public. I just figure that at some point in my distant past, the general population ceased wanting to see all that they show. Even I avoid mirrors those days.
The horror of horrors this spring is that fashion gurus say the spandex and stripes of the 1980s are making a comeback. So are the era's jelly bracelets, brought back to wrists by teeny-bop pop singer Avril Lavigne.
If you don't know who Lavigne is or you know because you found her CD in your child's room, leave the jelly bracelets where they hang.
In a hip city such as Las Vegas, we probably need to work harder following the rule of comebacks: If you wore it the first time around, keep walking past the rack.
And remember that "strapping" is good in a man but bad in a tank top.
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