A week or so ago, I instagrammed the following image with the subtitle:
"I used to hate stripes."
And I did.
In fact, I'll admit that I'm still in the process of coming to terms with the "fabric made of two", as the bible (may or may not have) called it.
Yet, acknowledging my longheld adversity piqued my interest, and I did some rigorous Google hunting to investigate the history of the questionably cool pattern.
Turns out, stripes are like, super interesting.
Most interesting, though, is that the "Parisian chic" blue and white stripe was met with DEATH in none other than that striped city itself.
Apparently, stripes "had a diabolical quality, a demeaning and pejorative aura."
"Prostitutes, prisoners, clowns, hangmen and 'the condemned' wore the striped garment."
Even zebras were considered evil.
Then, as uncool things tend to do, stripes became cool.
18th century: Queen Victoria outfits her wee lad in an adorbs sailor suit. 1858: stripes become naval uniform. 1930s: Coco like, totally nails a striped top with palazzo pants and BA BAM.
A star is born.
Then came the era which I reference today.
I mean, check these flares OUT.
And the fact that stripes were seen in the 70s as rebellious just makes me love them that much more. I feel a little less anchor baby, and a little more,
The fact that some random man had to die in Paris hundreds of years ago to make this here outfit possible doesn't exactly hurt either.
It's like I'm channeling the soul of a super retro martyr.
Striped Bellbottoms Are Cool Now.