ApocaChic™

Fashion disaster? You couldn't be more in line with the shaky times.

By Marke B.

OH, MISS Thang, haven't you heard? Your ripped fishnets are tiny windows on eternity, your faux-hawk a tear in the ozone veil. The apocalypse is upon us, according to Kansas, and somewhere over the rainbow there's a sale on immaculate post-punk outerwear, "Rock of Ages" denim styles, and hot, hot, off-the-New-Iraq "faulty" intelligent designer name brands. That somewhere is here. Welcome to ApocaChic, where we transform your potential subcultural fashion disasters (and real ones!) into glorious revelations.

Here at ApocaChic, the holes in your jeans become halos, the slash in your T stands for truth. Slip on one of our sleek, neon Lycra hoochie dresses to blow them away at the cocktail Hour of Judgment – or use it to flag down a passing helicopter from your roof. Make a "statement" with our back-in-the-AIDS-heyday "Like a Virgin" hair gel – it doubles as a flashing distress beacon! Our unique, post-ironic high-pressure fashion system is specially designed to respond to "global warming" by instantly bringing back candy-cane leg warmers, goofy fun-fur hats, and ties as skinny as thermometers. Whether you're rocking the Bloc Party or are front row for the Rapture, you'll clap your hands, say yeah, and scream, "Beyoncé!" when you log on to our virtual warehouse of meta-political retro-musical xtreme-survival styles. We also sell air quotes in bulk or travel size.

But that's not all! Sue Nami, Katrina Watts, Rita Fema Evac Plan, Big Ol' Wilma Blew – don' cha wish your girlfriend was hot like them? (That shady bitch of a Pakistani quake remains nameless, but hey, everything goes good with Kashmir.) Honey, you couldn't handle what those big girls bring – unless you're sporting our peekaboo inflatable 2-Xist gym queen jockstrap/life vest, or a slick pair of Lil' Kim suede thigh-high stilettos to kick out your attic roof. Anyway, all that shock-and-awe bluster is so yesterday! It's all about shake and bake now: white phosphorus eyeliner, blood-red mascara, glittering shrapnel applied over hidden base. A little sampled Marvin Gaye, a little naughty Abu Ghraib, a spritz of our antimalarial Darfur Sport for Men, and voilà! You're a unilateral love machine, a playa-playa on the postapocalyptic playa of the afterlife.

And music? Music, which, to quote a celebrity dead white faggot, "can be made anywhere, is invisible, / And does not smell"? Talk about always in style! It's no secret that our music's the eternal emperors' new gear, a globalized, renewable, certified organic, perfume- and dye-free product available in flesh, taupe, natural, and nude for today's discerning first-world Paris-suburb wannabes, happily imported at reduced rates from the silent, darker corners of the globe. This year emo slid like a puny egg down the window of corporate opportunity, the big bad wolf blew the house in, somebody squealed, "Freak folk," and all the little electroclash piggies fled up the DSL crack pipe to their iPods. Those false industry gods holla'd back, girl, but you were just too mashed-up, called-out, hung-up.

The biggest news in hip-hop was cartoons. Scratch that. The biggest news in hip-hop was Kanye's gay love. Strike that, reverse it. The biggest news in hip-hop was France. Is this a dream? Is there acid in the rainwater? Hold on, we got Michael Franti on the other line. 'Sup, nigga? Sure, we got plenty magic carpets for the fans to wear at your next Golden Gate gig, as long as you prance all over them with those funky, funky Adidas Guatemalan peasant shoes.

But it's so easy to be cynical, to think that nothing makes a difference. Why not double-distance yourself from the stale whiff of nihilism by accessorizing with today's hottest retro wink-wink zeroes? Hoop earrings, leather cuffs, jelly bracelets, gold anklets, pastel wristbands – just follow the flashing bluebird to bling. And who wouldn't want to comment sardonically on an empire bookended by George Washington and George W., from cherry tree to turd blossom, with our downloadable Punky Brewster video wardrobe? Rock on, you funky Moon-Frye! Reagan lives!

Remember, when you hear that electronic horn of Gabriel's blow, we've drastically slashed our ApocaChic overhead. Peer through your sideways haircut at the falling, fileshare heavens: Nobody's an idol. Everyone's a star. Half off!

Marke B.'s 10 recent club tracks for the latest fashion apocalypse

1. Zuco 103, "Na Mangueira," Whaa! (Six Degrees)

2. The Glimmers, DJ Kicks (K7)

3. One Dark Martian, "It Doesn't Have to Be" (True Tiger)

4. Scritti Politti, "Lions after Slumber," Songs to Remember reissue (EMI)

5. Kerri Chandler, "Bar A Thym (Foremost Poets Instrumental Remix)" (NRK)

6. Metric, "Hustle Rose," Old World Underground, Where Are You Now? (Everloving)

7. Jill Scott, "Not Like Crazy (Quentin Harris QT Crazed Shelter Vocal)" (Restricted Access)

8. Gang of Four, "Damaged Goods," Entertainment! reissue (Rhino)

9. Zoot Woman, "Taken It All (Todd Edwards 'Soul Line' Remix)" (Wall of Sound)

10. A Certain Ratio, "Lucinda," Sextet reissue (Universal Sound)