As New York Fashion Week recently came to a close, it seemed apropos to take a look around and see what was happening fashion-wise at WVU.
While those sitting front row as the season’s couture and ready-to-wear creations sashayed down the runways were treated to fashion nirvana, I, unfortunately, do not have the privilege of sighting such beautiful collections here in Morgantown.
In many ways, the campus resembles almost any other college campus in America. There’s the requisite amount of school spirit, with club, department and Greek slogans in blinding blue and gold.
I would be hard-pressed to go a day without seeing athletic promotional apparel, courtesy of Adidas and Under Armour, en masse.
Naturally, the college uniform of sweats or yoga pants, hoodies and boat shoes regularly shows up in my classes.
The female population also stays attuned to the season’s trends à la Elle, PopSugar.com and the mall: high-low skirts, equal parts neon and pastels, fringe, bra tops, and pants constructed with the widest spectrum of materials and colors but the narrowest definition of one size.
All in all, nothing that would provoke much commentary, right?
I was so wrong in assuming that, in thinking that on the subject of attire the students of West Virginia University would somehow fail to provide fodder for the cynical peanut gallery.
Yes, the more typical pieces in the collection wardrobe pass the basic get-out-the-front-door test, but one single item—likely worn once by a poor, unfortunate soul and then immediately and foolishly adopted by the masses—clenches top honors in the Guinness Book of World Records under the category of ridiculous.
Hordes of girls—and these are girls, no bones about that—at WVU wear shorts that are so short their butt cheeks show. The shorts themselves are cut off to such an extreme that it’s not simply the dimples of the butt cheeks that are hinted at; but a good inch, inch and a half of straight cheek is literally hanging out of the garment.
Just for perspective, the fabric of my underwear—and not my Bridget Jones underwear—covers more of my ass than these shorts would.
Let’s take that in for a second.
I don’t want to belabor the point with scolding and chiding, but I do have some serious questions about the shorts and their wearability.
First off, are they comfortable?
What about when it’s cold—it your butt cold? Is is just the portion of your cheeks that is showing cold, or is the whole kit and caboodle cold?
What about when there’s a breeze?
When it’s hot, do you ever leave noticeable sweat marks on seats? Is that rough? How do you discreetly clean that up?
Do you get weird suntan lines?
Do you ever get stuck to plastic chairs? Is it like ripping off a Band-Aid except longer, pain-time-wise? Does your skin peeling off the plastic make a noise? What does it sound like?
Is there any special shaving or waxing involved?
Do your thighs ever rub together awkwardly? Does that make a weird noise, or is it just painful?
How comfortable do you feel wearing those shorts around small children? Your grandma? Your dad?
Can you get wedgies? What about front wedgies? That’s got to be rough.
It all has to be super-rough. I don’t know how these girls do it.
I personally am doing just fine with my Snuggie.
Because Charlie Barley Behringer could not simply disappear from Nooga.com, Mountain to Mountain will follow her and her mother's adventures, dispatch-style, in Morgantown as they tackle graduate school, first-year teaching and living in West by-God Virginia.
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