I just took about an hour to read through the lastest issue of Harper’s Bazaar that has mysteriously started showing up in my mailbox for free along with American Rifle or some other such publication, and was prompted to live-blog my experience. After reading through the super-thick fall fashion issue, I am now convinced that HB is in fact ushering in the end of the world. And the editors are, at the very least, schizophrenic in the worst possible way.

In the Buy/Keep/Store section we are told to buy pleated pants that are inevitably also slouchy AND high-waisted. Thanks grandma. Thankfully, a voice of reason has told them we are no longer to wear high-waisted denim.

This same page is telling me my beloved round-toed shoes are out in favor of boots that look like cages. No joke.

I really wish I had a practical need to thigh-high boots. In any flavor.

I continue to gather objective evidence that my strange purchases are every bit as fashion-forward as I claim them to be at the time of purchase. This issue tells me my bright yellow fake croc clutch is on-point. And mine only cost me $5 and a dose of ativan for surviving Santee Alley.

What the hell is a club-sandwich-soled shoe? I know platform, wedge, kitten, stiletto, flat, and stacked. I do not know this club sandwich.

If something can be called “surprisingly classy” it is probably not, in actuality, classy.

Naomi Campbell is only one jump rope away from double-dutching with monkeys.

A $575 jacket will NOT blow my budget, according to HB

Giving a model a 40s-style coif does not instantly, magically render an ensemble classy and elegant. It just gives the model good hair. Maybe

Apparently we needed to be told that lucite heels are out. As are splatter-paint patterns.

This fall’s color forecast (I quote): “Black is fail-safe, but there are other sober options, like black and white, camel and rust. Fresh ideas include celadon green (and lots of other greens), burnt umber, tan, mineral-gem shades, and sparkling metallics. For brights, follow the Marc Jacobs primary hues or Lucian Freud sour colors like blood orange or gum pink from Dries Van Noten”. In other words, wear whatever the hell you want because we can’t really decide.

Last month told me I require a white shirt to survive this fall. This month, Banana Republic conveniently advertised a bazillion white shirts.