What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas due to the fact that there is usually a lot of alcohol consumed – at any given time through out the day – which leads to some fantastic and sometimes embarrassing stories. However, this article is about the clothes in Vegas, so I’m not going to break the cardinal rule of Vegas.
My ode to Vegas fashion was inspired by the various fashion statements that I was privileged enough to see on my trip last weekend. In no other city can you see that many different styles all walking – or staggering – down the street at one time. There are the tacky tourists, like the lady I saw in the Monte Carlo who was wearing a hot pink fanny pack and black spandex shorts. Her outfit was made complete by the camera strung around her neck and her two kids trailing behind her, who were wearing similarly hideous outfits. I’m never quite sure why people think that it’s OK to wear spandex shorts out in public unless they are going to be exercising – and even then it’s a little inappropriate. As for the pink fanny pack, I wore one when I was about six and I’m still embarrassed about it.
Another amusing fashion category is the attire worn by cocktail waitresses in the clubs. They are in charge of making sure that the drinks at the VIP tables are never empty, and also making sure that their silicone breasts are displayed as prominently as possible. They all wear fishnets, miniskirts and corsets that push their boobs up to staggering heights. They all also wear knee-high boots, which were pretty fucking hot. I asked one girl where she got them. They were Manolo Blahnik, so I figured that cocktail waitresses must make pretty good money to be able to afford that kind of fashion. Their outfits aren’t quite as sparkly as the showgirls’ outfits – with the feathers and the sequins – but they were pretty close.
The best time to observe this mixing of fashion genres is in the evening because all of the college girls – including yours truly – are out for dinner in their ridiculously high heels, which are really uncomfortable but so cute that you can’t resist wearing them out. These are the same girls who you see at about three or four in the morning walking barefoot through the hotel and carrying their shoes because their feet hurt so badly – I only had to do this one night, but I sure hope that the floors of the Luxor are clean.
The college girls are mixing with the showgirls in their feathers and gold lame who are strolling through the hotel headed for their shows, who are in turn mixing with all of the families who are headed back to their hotel rooms after dinner at the buffet, wearing their jeans and tennis shoes with the brightly colored Las Vegas shirt they bought in the gift shop. The sheer amount of sequins and ugly T-shirts that a person can see in Vegas is enough to make your head spin.
However, the winner for the best outfit of the weekend goes out to the guy that got onto the elevator with me in the Monte Carlo. He stepped onto the elevator wearing a beater, black dress socks and a hotel towel wrapped around his waist. No shoes or pants, just the socks and his towel. It was amazing. He glanced sheepishly at the rest of us on the elevator and said, ” It was a rough night. I hope they let me back into my room, because I have no idea what happened to my key.” My bet is that it was with his pants, wherever they were. I hope his night was as fabulous for him as it was for all of us on the elevator with him the next morning – and that his friends didn’t break the cardinal rule when they left Vegas.
Daily Nexus Assistant Opinion Editor Caitlin Cassady set more than her soul on fire when she fell head first into Vegas’s largest flaming alcoholic drink.