The Jumpsuit: A Critical Essay

     Ahhhhhh the jumpsuit.

     Truth be told, when it comes to fashion I am, for the most part, lazy, thus hugely enjoy feeling vaguely “put together” in one simple garment.

Huzaah! Enter: the jumpsuit— the now ever-present summer staple that's always there to deliver on put-together-ness and outfit-selecting ease.

     A few seasons ago, wearing a jumpsuit would solicit comments such as “wow you are brave” or “gosh that’s daring.” I’d sort of shrug, not entirely understanding why courage and valiance were associated with my fashion-laziness, plus a desire to prevent New York City “swamp crotch” in deepest July—all whilst waiting for the N to (never) show up.

     Magazines and stylists on morning shows seemed to compare rompers to 15th-century exploration—a high risk, high reward endeavor into uncharted lands. I’d go out and awestruck friends would lean in ask in hushed voices: “But how do you go to the bathroom?” The truth? Slowly, disgustingly, over the course of what feels like 45 minutes. “Oh hello, it is July. I’m in a jumpsuit and have to pee—see you in 30 to 60 minutes, here's my credit card and please enjoy the dessert.”

     That said, during the summer I ostensibly rotate five outfits (again, lazy)—and just the other day I realized that three of these outfits are, indeed, jumpsuits.

Ugh. Dammit.

     A little over two weeks ago I sprained my wrist (falling off an electric-bicycle in San Francisco—good Lordy don’t ask), and I came to realize that a sprained wrist is simply one incapacitation too far for the dear ol' jumpsuit. The temporary incapacitation had me re-examine the garment entirely.

     I’ve come to the conclusion that jumpsuits (and their  Skipper-to-the-jumpsuit's-Barbie, hideous-little-sister: the romper) are a terrible failure of aeronautics, hygiene, design, and general practicality.

Good luck.

Here are a few, carefully selected reasons why the jumpsuit totally sucks:


1. Going to the bathroom is mission impossible.
Look. It’s going to take a few minutes to figure out how to get the contraption off of your person (without letting everything hit the floor but we’ll get to that in a minute).

Now how exactly do people wear these at music festivals or concerts where the only option to urinate is a sludge-soaked porta-potty? It is absolutely beyond my realm of comprehension. It defies all logic, Newton's Laws, and the very basic tenets of physics.

Plus, you better hope the line isn’t too long because you’re only taking six hours in there.
Whatever.
It’s fine.
No one else at this bar/restaurant/wedding/music festival has to pee. Or worse.



2. It’s disgusting.
So you get to the bathroom, you finally get the damn thing off of you and boom: you are totally naked. And, to make matters worse, your entire outfit now precariously threatens to lay on the floor of this public toilet and then? THEN YOU HAVE TO PUT IT BACK ON YOUR ENTIRE BODY.
Oh, my actual God.
Ew.
No.
That is how people get hepatitis.
...You might have hepatitis.

Basically, this is an article of clothing made for toddlers whose mother’s remove all their clothes to change them. Why would any sane person think, “You know I think adults should be able to wear these too”? Then why on earth would any adult person—including myself— actually purchase and wear them?

Lord.

3. Dignity
Jumpsuits are like a camel toe/wedgie hybrid for which there is, as of yet, no proper name (camel-wedge? Wedgie-toe?)

Anyway. This abomination of dignity is exclusively caused by this chimera-like summer fashion staple.
In the mirror before you leave the house?
     Magical.
You take literally three steps into the hallway?
     Suddenly, 35% of your clothing has wiggled, crept, nay: slithered its way into the sweat-soaked shadows of the Great Unknown.



4. NO ONE can look sexy taking OFF a romper. 
I'm sorry: it is scientifically impossible.
I don’t care if you are Misty Copeland.
You cannot look attractive removing a jumpsuit. PERIOD.

In the heat of the moment, most people struggle hard enough trying to unbuckle a BELT, so good luck with a full body suit. I wouldn’t be surprised if your sexy-time partner gives up halfway, grabs their coat, and walks out screaming “It’s just not worth it.”


[*drops mic*]