The worst fashion sighting I have encountered in a long time came, shockingly, right in my own home. As I came down the stairs, walking in my midst was a veritable fashion Frankenstein. It was my poor misguided father, decked out in a misguided outfit involving a hawa'ain-style button down, red swim trunks and camoflauge sandals. We do not live in the O.C.. We live in Canada, where beach attire labels you as a fat man or a frat boy unless actually worn at the beach. I told dad, as calmly as I could that if he were to try and leave the house while wearing that, I would make him change. He did. And that's respect for you.