Oscar Fugshion: Pocket Watch


I love pockets. I use mine all the time. Much as I am hooked on cute purses, sometimes it’s just easier to jam some cash and an ID into your trousers and not have to worry about, say, leaving your purse in the car, or under your dinner table, or the windowsill at Union Station during a fairly high-traffic time of day. Not that any of these things has happened to me.

However, there’s a reason evening gowns don’t have pockets. Two reasons, actually.

1. Sandra Bullock.

2. Amy Adams

Look at them: Amy and her pretty hair, her pretty smile, and her pretty eyes, and that bizarre breastplate thing on the front of her dress; and Sandy, whose gown has that strange black-mesh stuff that looks like lining gone badly awry, but who has grown into her face with age and looks a lot better now that her tattooed biker husband is making her love herself enough to eat (take notice, starlets). In short, these women, depsite some torso-related dress-design oddities, are lovely.

And yet, they are unable to resist the temptation of the pocket, so they’re standing there with their hands jammed into their skirts. It looks ridiculous. It’s the sartorial equivalent of smacking one’s chewing gum, which makes even the most sophisticated Wrigley addict look like a cow chewing cud. So stop cudding yourselves, ladies, and resist the allure of the headline-grabbing gown pocket that will, in the end, grab you in its awkward clutches.

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