N.B. The Manolo’s friend, The Legatrix, who always makes the Manolo laugh, offers us nothing but portents of doom.
The Manolo has been gently scaring us straight with his series of blog posts, The Death of Civilization. In that spirit, I offer you a variation on a theme.
You see, I have a theory. Okay, I have several theories, but this is the one doesn’t involve Soviet vodka, rhesus monkeys, and Vaseline.
Certain fashion trends portend widespread cultural decline. I don’t care whether it comes riding in with the Visigoths or on a wave of Stagflation, nothing says “stock up on canned food and good books because the Kardashians are in charge” like bad fashion trends.
Case in point: the Bad Perm.
This is the kind of hair you have when your dad just sacked Jerusalem, shacked up with a Jewish Princess, and decided to fix you up with your uncle. Oh, and Rome has just been through four emperors in one year. (On the up side, none of them was Nero.)
And we all know that no good came of the Seventies except for Donna Summer. And fondue parties.
But lest you think the bad perm is a singularly female vice, consider Charles II of England. Sure, Chuck, you may primp that mane to make it more difficult for the executioner to find your neck, like he did your dad’s, but do you know what that coiffure really is? It’s a cry for help. London is burning, everybody is coming down with the Plague, and you’ve got more mistresses than you can possibly afford.
At times like these, there’s only one thing to do: put on your tight pants and get a little Super Freaky.