@hedgehog This reminds me of a thing that never fails to press my 'I hate people, but that shit's funny' button.
Freshman in high school, make some of my own clothes and such (or mod things/etc.). Bear in mind, I graduated in 1991; the 80s had some of this, but not tons of it in the suburbs outside punk or new wave circles. More or less anything you didn't buy at The Limited or Express was, according to the people who thought they knew anything, was made of pure crap.
It was a big deal when my mother and I would go to this big fancy fabric store that was a couple hours away; it was one of those once-per-year-pilgrimage special occasions. That year, I pick up two colors of this pretty sheer fabric and made a long skirt out of it, layered one color on top, the other peeking out at the bottom.
Cue endless torment the moment I wore that to school.
Fast forward two years. I'm dragged along to that very The Limited that is my bane by a friend, and see a flash of something familiar. So help me god, it was that same skirt. Same fabric exactly. Same colors exactly. Same layer order exactly. Same cut and length exactly.
I spent the next six months cheerfully chirping, "Nice skirt!" at the people who spent $90 late-1980s dollars on the same skirt I made in less than an hour for $12 or so, and had been saying the same thing in a nasty-ass tone to me for the past two years.
Chirpy instant karma cuntbaggery is the best cuntbaggery.