I don’t think I really need to introduce Ben do I? I think the whole interwebs is familiar with his amazeballs blog. And even though Ben is over in Ethiopia with War Child Canada being a humanitarian (and doing it better than Angelina Jolie ever could), he’s still writing us guest posts. Yes, he’s that amazing. His timing couldn’t be better either – Ally had work to do for a client and I just spent the last eight hours staring at my computer/the same three ladies. Lovely ladies, but by hour seven, they did not inspire a blog post. Although, they do note that you should blow dry out your dry shampoo. Story for another day. Here’s Ben:

Ah yes. If only travel was all brooding stares, unspoken introspection, and good hair days. But Serena? I’ve got you pegged. I know damn well that you’re full of it. Had you actually been traveling like a real person? That Cover Girl glow would be replaced with a light film of other people’s exhales, that hair would be overpowered by a nest of kinks on the back large enough to be scouted for a Ratatouille sequel, and that attractively distant facial expression would be scarred with the rage of spending time with people who refuse to follow simple rules like ONE GODDAMN CARRY-ON.

Yep. Travel sucks. Having already been on fourteen planes since the start of 2011, I’ve had my fair share of time to consider the ins and outs of fashionable travel – more of an art than a science. You see, there are two distinct breeds of travelers. Those who dress in hopes of attracting sweet kiss of the First Class Upgrade, and those who look like they just rolled out of bed, punched themselves in the face with sweatpants, got back in bed, and pretended to get on an plane.

 

Me? Well, it’s no secret: getting on a plane for me means a full-on mile-high gaygasm of hotness that practically merits its own VIP line at the boarding gate. Designer jeans, leather boots, cashmere sweater, scarf, Kenneth Cole messenger bag, non-offensive greyscale – oh yeah, this shit’s serious, ladies. I like to roll with the nine-foot glamazons that burst into departures looking like they should be followed by entourages of paparazzi and homosexual stylists en route to Ethiopia Fashion Week. Oh right. Did I forget to mention that I got dressed up for 24-hours of travel that will have me setting leather-sole on African soil when all is said and done? That’s right – my commitment to airline attractiveness knows no bounds.

But then there are the Real Housewives of Dalhousie Sororities, the ones who show up in Lululemon everything: Ugg boots, just-had-sex-and/or-didn’t-shower ponytails, and pink-striped socks. In fact, this is quickly becoming the frightening majority. Are we destined to think of airports as the Walmart of the new millennium? Should we expect Tumblrs to start covering the detailed and grossly visible crevices as they are emphasized by thin, clingy polyblends? Is this really a travel world you want to be a part of?

I get it. The Serena Van Der Woodsen world is a total lie. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to give up all together. I’d like to propose that if you wouldn’t wear it if you knew you were going to run into an ex, you don’t wear it on an airplane. Don’t let travel outfits go the way of spa day outfits, Sunday brunch outfits, and girls’ night out outfits. There are some things we need to keep sacred. Especially if those things are people we have to stare at and sit next to for up to eight hours at a time.

Don’t do it for you, do it for me and all the other bitchy, road-weary gays who are sick of seeing your belly-button indent staring up at my from across the aisle.

Ally: I have such a crush on Ben. Seriously. SUCH A CRUSH. Even with the pee-pee pants I am wearing right now from laughing so hard. In mommy news – cause that’s how I bring it these days – I feel we are closer to potty-training now that BabyG has learned to say, “Bye-Bye, Poo-Poo!” and “Bye-Bye, Pee-Pee!” at each diaper change. Yes, I have finally become that person. The person that finds ridiculous stories about their toddler to be completely earth shatteringly amazing. This has nothing to do with Ben’s post, or our fashion blog, but seeing as I have no one to talk to these days except the Internet…there you have it. I think we’re all excited for Spring when Ally can finally leave her house and talk to real humans. Until then, “Bye-Bye Poo-Poo!” HA! Gets me every time.