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Xeni Jardin's harmless excursion to the Beverly Hills Saks Fifth Avenue for a restorative dose of shoe porn goes horribly wrong:

I'm confronted by what can only be described as a couture monstrosity, phonecammed here for your vicarious viewing pleasure. What's more ridiculous in LA than an underfed, Hummer-driving, fake-tanned, trust-fund teen wearing a pair of Ugg boots in July? Marc Jacobs Ugg boots in July, that's what.

And in other news, I was grabbing a cold coffee at Urth Cafe in WeHo this afternoon, and my car thermometer says it's 101 fucking degrees outside, and the AMW (actress-model-whatever) behind me is wearing hot pink Uggs. Unless they're filled with dry ice, that's just so wrong for so many reasons in LA in July.

So wrong, in fact, that we, the non-Ugg'd populace of Los Angeles (there have to be at least three of us, right?), must help these sweaty-footed, mactress fashion victims. Eventually, the Ugg'd must sit down to enjoy an iced latte outside the Coffee Been or to try on something in a stiletto heel. Once their legs are crossed or a furry boot doffed, we strike! Approach slowly, see the unguarded boot, wait for your moment...then grab and run!. The now one-Ugg'd victim will not give chase; she'll immediately realize that sprinting after you will look totally stupid, and who wants to look like a galloping, monobooted gimp within the purview of the fabulous? Dispose of the boot at your leisure. (We suggest making it into a planter.) This is the only way.

UPDATE: A reader weighs in on the difference between Uggs and MoonBoots. Who knew?

And more anti-UGG crusading can be found at Blogging.la:
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