What is this world coming to? It's going to bizarre extremes. More like extremities. There was the antler trend, and then it turned into the porno-hook trend. I mean honestly, would you hang this up in your house? They know those look more like middle fingers than antlers, right? Especially in that sick inner-flesh pink.

And what is it with the jeans? I think the coming camel-toe epidemic, the most direct result of the high-waisted jeans epidemic, is related to the porno-hook trend. It has to be. I'm wondering if Monistat put something in the water. Because I'm hearing from all these retailers that high-waisted jeans are selling like hotcakes. One said to me, "Honest [pronounced "awnissttah"]. Denim, particularly high-waisted [pronounced "hoy" waisted] is the new black.''

Maybe you're under the impression that you can actually wear these jeans and eat your hotcakes too. Not. Unless they were some air-injected aspartame and sawdust hotcakes invented by a diet company (hey, maybe they're in bed with Monistat). Would you -- or really, are you going to wear these jeans and wear them proud? I mean low-waisted jeans can be a problem too: There's that whole unfortunate thong double-butt thing.   But truly,  the camel-toe risk is more than a risk, as I remember (as do do the boys in my school.) It's a comical (to say the least) certainty.

I feel like shouting out Soylent green is people! Doesn't anyone remember  the first wave of  camel-toe disasters? Can someone say Charlie's Angels? At least look at how these jeans are constructed. Are we really going to pay possibly more than three bills to not be able to bend at the waist without gathering everything under the ribcage in a massive rollover? In Missouri that used to be called a Dunlop -- as in, your spare tire's done loppin' over the waistband of them jeans.

Okay. Maybe there's another side to this. After all, in her elegantly detached Connecticut-stoner fashionista way, Chloe Sevigny mused that high-waisted jeans were a good look, especially if you have a bit of a pooch "like me."  My rebuttal: Like she really has a pooch.

Perhaps another way to put this into some kind of context is that we have spent so much time being edgy that we have veered back into some kind of pastel-hued, quasi-me-decade complacency. Astonished by the strength of hurricanes, we prefer to believe that marshmallow fluff is nutritious. That would explain why my blogging compadres are gushing about this chair:

So, remember that chair you pulled out of the trash while you were in college? The chair with the kind of '70s rattan-and-wood back? If you ripped the torn plastic off the seat and recovered it, would it be worth nearly $200?

No, really. Would you? And I'm not the only one who has problems with giant fuzzy yellow coats that look like Big Bird rolled in mud and then made his little sister wear his feathers. Or socks with no toes (made by Prada), perfect for those chilly November walks in the rain.

Definitely looking forward to what Fashion Week's got in store for spring. Hopefully, not high-waisted overall jeans. (Which caused the Shakespeare's sisters of snark at Go Fug Yourself to put Fergie, among others, on their Celebrity Terror Watch, and made my afternoon back in June.)

Keep up the good fight, Heather and Jessica. I'm on your side.

Jana Martin is The MOLI View's contributing editor for Fashion & Design.