In honor of Casual Friday, I will herein list what I would wear if I were a super villain. True, most villainous garb is not considered casual, but I feel the spirit of the day is more about freedom to choose your couture. To illustrate my points, I shall include several collages I created on Polyvore.com
Ok, here’s what I call Super Villain Style #1:
To me, this ensemble says, “Bask in my glory while I kick your butt”–which is always a helpful message to send. Yes, it is all black, and black is a bit cliche for a villain, but there’s something to be said for a timelessly classic look. Key points to notice are the leather pants and motorcycle boots, which scream “Domination!” But also note the flowing top and feminine accessories which change the outfit’s shout to “Pretty Domination!” The sensible heel on the shoe means you won’t break it off when you trod upon your enemies, and the loose sleeves of the top give you great range of motion when punching or slapping your foe. A simple collection for your day-to-day evil needs.
Collection 2 ~or~ The Red Death
This collection is all about drama. Practicality be damned–you’re looking fierce. This outfit is perfect for sipping out of opulent chalices, gliding ominously down stone corridors and hosting extravagant galas which are unparallelled in their depths of decadent splendor. Bonus: Crimson and onyx garments are perfect for hiding blood stains while still looking chic.
And finally, collection 3: The Unexpected.
Yes! The delicious satisfaction of fooling your foes with this pastel pastiche. Drawing from such style icons as Barbie and Elle Woods (from Legally Blonde), this outfit will be sure to stun everyone. No one will ever suspect you of nefarious schemes when you sashay through the room in your preppy pumps, sassy peplum dress, and pretty floral earrings. No one would ever suspect your glam clam purse could ever hold a weapon. Not unless it was a collapsible weapon. Not unless it was a discreet collapsible shiv, created especially for just such a cute clutch as this. No one would ever suspect that. Not until you, that is.
So there you have it– Finch’s fashion tips for the would be villain in all of us. These are just a few of the many options that I would have in my diabolical wardrobe if I were to one day seek to reign supreme and unchallenged. I’m sure that day will never come, but if it does, I will look fantabulous.
I work at a call center. In a tiny cube with three other sad sacks who can’t afford to quit. We are not high tech at this call center. We are exceedingly low tech, inasmuch as one of our operating systems, if it were a human, would be well past the legal drinking age in America. I mention this fact to let the reader know that we are not equipped with video phones or web conferencing or Skype or anything of the like that would allow us to visually communicate with the clients who call in to our call center. They cannot see us. I am heartily glad for this fact because it allows me to roll my eyes sarcastically, pantomime shooting myself in the head, and to enthusiastically flip off the client with any and all middle fingers available to me. As long as my voice is blandly pleasant, and as long as the client feels that I’m actually listening to what they say, I’m good. Not to belabor the point, but being a call center, our only contact with the clients is through the phone, which as aforementioned, are not video phones. No clients come in to the office. (Oh Hallelujah! Can I get an Amen?) They, at no point in time, see the people they are calling. The only people who ever see us are the other miserable wretches who inhabit this sinkhole and occasionally, the guy who fills up the soft drink machine.
So why in the name of bloody, spider infested, weasel phlegm coated Hell do I have to wear “business casual” attire?!?
I’m stuck wearing dress pants and a dress shirt and dress shoes nigh on every single day, for no apparent reason other than the fact that someone in HR decided that it makes us more productive. I’m surprised we aren’t required to wear dress underwear. I’d better not say that too loud–I’ll come in Monday morning to an email saying “In order to increase productivity, inspire morale and maximize the actualization of our corporate image, all employees are now required to wear business casual undergarments. No granny panties, no Sunday underwear (you know what we mean!) Anyone caught wearing undergarments in violation of the dress code will be sent home. And we sincerely hope they don’t get in an accident on the way home and have to go to the hospital. Not in those undergarments. What will the doctor think?”
I understand that we have to have some sort of rules on what we can wear to work. Unfortunately, some people must have been raised by wolves–blind, tasteless, uncouth wolves–and would come to work dressed in things that are all shabby, but no chic; or in things that are so ho-ish that a two dollar prostitute would scorn them. So yes, by all means–set some limits on what’s acceptable. But having to dress up like I’m off to broker some business meeting when in reality all I’m doing is staring forlornly out the window at the mocking view of the outside world until that dreaded “Beep” sounds in my headphones, is just too much.
As mentioned in a previous post, I keep my mind from running away into the void of oblivion, gibbering with tedium-induced insanity by imagining what I would do if I were a super villain. I would like to clarify that this is just speculation, and is in no way indicative of future plans or career arcs. In no way whatsoever. Whatsoever. Because that would be crazy, right? Right. Ha ha. Keeping that in mind, in part two of this post, I shall describe my ideas for wardrobing my super villain self. Topics covered will include the importance of establishing a brand, capes or no capes, and if black leather is stylish or so last season. Try not to expire from anticipation, dear readers. It’ll be hard, but I know you can make it. You are so strong.
Oftentimes, I amuse myself at work by planning elaborate ways of becoming a super villain and taking over the world. Many components go into making a good super villain; outfits, witty banter, an arch nemesis with which to engage in the aforementioned witty banter, an appropriately evil laugh, etc. But one very important factor is your army. It can be minions, henchmen, a hoard of mercenary barbarians, or any number of things. The most important thing is that there be droves of them. Scads, even. Perchance a plethora if you’re feeling spunky. And they must be outfitted well. A common error in super villainy is under equipping your staff. If your underlings are getting mowed down by your foes like so many blades of grass before the whirring blades of a lawn tractor, it does not bode well for you. Not only is it expensive to replace human resources, but it’s bad for morale as well. And the last thing you want is a bunch of demotivated lackeys between you and your enemy.
That’s why I have figured out the one item that must be standard issue to all my troops: An attack unicorn. Hear me out. Picture that you’re one of my foes (if you’re already one of my foes–and you know who you are–this should be easy) and that you’re making a futile attempt to storm my lair. You’ve crossed the moat, defeated the Sphinx and her riddles, and solved the Rubik’s Cube of Eternal Frustration. Nothing left to do but defeat my hoard. Should be pretty simple–but hang on–what’s this now? What’s that crunching rumble that your hear fast approaching? Why it’s my henchmen, astride their titanium-clad attack unicorns. And that crunching sound is not the hooves of their steeds–it’s the tank treads of their steeds. Crushing beneath them the bones of other fools who dared oppose me. And does that majestic, rainbow-hued horn also double as a rocket launcher? You bet your sweet bippy it does. Oh, and how observant of you to notice that my attack unicorns have laser eyes. Most people would just assume that it was magic and wonder twinkling in those crimson orbs. Well, that’s partly correct–magic and wonder and lasers. And just a smidgin of pixie dust. Can’t forget that.
As you cower there–whimpering, soiling yourself profusely and ruing the day you ever thought to cross me– you notice the crowning achievement of my army. It’s my valiant and noble steed. You weep at its beauty. It’s not merely an attack unicorn–it’s an attack Pegasus unicorn. Its glittering wings blind you. It has the standard rocket launcher horn and laser eyes and tank treads in case of land maneuvers, but it also has an additional feature. That’s right, it breathes fire as well. Give up now, puny mortal. Your pathetic endeavor has failed and I have emerged victorious. I am triumphant. All shall love me and despair. Bwah ha ha ha!
… And then I realize that I have been cackling aloud at my cubicle, eliciting concerned and wary stares from my coworkers. I must return to my drudgery for now, at least until I can create a Kickstarter account to fund my attack-a-corns project. Sigh.