Some years back, my eccentric genius of a friend Quentin threw down that Louis IX looks would be the next thing in clubwear. Here we are, freshly in the year of our lord 2013, and Rococopunk is officially a thing.
Surprised? Of course not.
Horrified? Just a little.
Why, you ask? Thus far, Rococopunk (I feel my IQ dropping as I type this) seems to be the foray of the, erm, illustrious Superdork cosplayers and burlesque personalities. I can almost feel the equal waves of agreement and critique (of course they’re only expressing themselves in a club/party environment where individuality and expressionism is not only encouraged but expected in many circles), but damn do they look especially ridiculous.
Not only that, but I’ll celebrate a fancy dress theme that doesn’t bind ladies’ tits quite so tightly – I don’t want there to be glaring red lines across by bosom after I exotically disrobe my neon 18th century inspired threads to have a crazy rococobang.. that nonsense is just unseemly.
Image source: io9.com