Young Hollywood types, at least, have an excuse. They’re trying to look anti-Hollywood, anti-bling—it’s a mechanism to deflect the assumption you’re a publicist-packaged prick. But what if you don’t happen to have a personal trainer, a house in the hills, or Gisele on your arm? Suddenly your insouciant-slacker fashion statement loses its subtext, and you realize that what you’ve pulled on, actually, are basically Garanimals. And unfortunately, you looked a lot cuter in them when you were 6.