A Girl’s Guide to Dressing for the Apocalypse
The first time I tried MDMA was by accident. I was 16, thirsty, and thought the bottle of water my friend had just handed me would quench my thirst. So I drank it all, proceeded to have the time of my life, and—a few hours later—ended the night in my hotel room sobbing uncontrollably, convinced that tomorrow would be the day I died, asking my friends to not let my mother choose my funeral outfit. Oh, and could they please put me in a strapless dress, because I was really proud of my shoulders at the time.
The moral of the story: Don’t even bother dying if you aren’t gonna look good doing it. Corpses are bad enough, but ugly ones go to hell. Now, considering the fact that a bunch of dead Mesoamericans from thousands of years ago reckon we’re all going to be extinct in approximately six days, you might wanna start thinking seriously about this.
The most pressing problem about the end of humanity and everyone you know and love dying painfully is that six days really isn’t a long time to prepare an outfit fit for an apocalypse, especially as no one has any idea exactly how it’s going to go down. Thankfully, you have us. And because we’re not flippant and oblivious like you idiots, we’ve compiled a sartorial guide to Google’s four most popular apocalyptic scenarios. Get reading and see you on the other side.
A couple of important things to remember now that the planet is blasting itself to shit: Forget your long-standing alliance with PETA, because everything down to your underwear is going to be made from the skin of some poor, mutated creature. Think Kanye West’s chinchilla collection meets Beyoncé in the winter, paired with a Slipknot-style gas mask (I guess we all knew that rap-rock would have to make a comeback some day). Even more crucial than fur is lead, because it protects you from isotopes and radiation and all the stuff that will eventually kill you. So some sort of lead-rimmed, wing-tipped sunglasses would work a treat, or you could acquire a couple of lead roof tiles and whip yourself up a protective it-bag-cum-helmet (everyone’s going to want one, trust me).
Chances are the planet will be thrust into a nuclear summer or winter, or just total darkness (or all three! Yay!), which means that your outfits are going to have to be adaptable to totally different weather types. Think about it like when you get on a plane from a cold place to a really hot place, except with less cocktails and more slow, excruciating death from radiation exposure.
As far as slaughtering your scavenging competitors on the nuclear wastes goes, layering is your best bet. Channel a mafia queen and tuck a different weapon into each strap: a machete in your suspender, rifle in your stocking, grenade in your bra. Definitely wear flat shoes, though, because even the most minor tumble in heels is going to end with you impaling yourself and/or exploding, which kind of defeats the object of dressing to stay alive even if it does submit to that old adage that fashion is something you must suffer for.