Space Cadet

Imagine, if you will (and please do, it's a fun little trip), a nineteen year old girl. Frizzy blond hair, piled on top of her head, sticking out randomly. Wide brown eyes, with a not-quite-there gaze. Puffy jacket, ratty sweater. A denim miniskirt, seemingly cut with a dull knife while blindfolded. Pink knit legwarmers that went all the way up to meet her skirt.

And moon boots.

They even proclaimed proudly what they were: huge puffy white stompers, with "Moon Boots" written in blue.

Moon boots, my friend. The ladies of my daily guilty pleasure would have had a field day with her.

Now, I advise a lot of textile and fashion marketing students who want to go to London. I've seen some funky fashions walking through my office. Some are great and I admire appropriately, some are a little too out-there for my minimalist taste. This trend, if you can even call it that, just makes me think she has some overstated aspirations as to her intended vocation.

She shuffles into the office, twenty minutes late for her appointment. "I've never been to France before, but I want to move there and be a veterinarian. How do I do that?"

It was a long day.