I don't think I need to explain why I threw McCall's 3442 into the "unfortunate fashion" pile:
McCall's 3442, 1972
To be fair, the actual pattern -- the pants and "shirt-jacket" -- are fine. But the (entirely fictional) fabric is a terrifying example of 1970s double-knit wonder.
Red Plaid Pants is actually the best-dressed one of the bunch. I think he and Green Boots -- green boots! -- are congratulating each other on Green Boots' fashion choices. (Really? A red lumberjack shirt-jacket with key lime boots?) Meanwhile poor Navy Plaid looks on...whether in disdain for his compatriots' fashion choices or sadness that they have not noticed his white webbing belt, I cannot say.
Oh, Kwik Sew. How many times do we have to go through this? The purpose of a pattern illustration is to make us want to use your pattern. Not to evoke thoughts of a particularly gruesome CSI episode, Hannibal Lecter or childhood despair:
What woe troubles the little tyke of Kwik Sew 449? Is Mom getting into the rum again? Did Dad kick the puppy? Or are those little footie pajamas just not fitting the way they should?
Carmencita pegged it perfectly -- the model in the upper right is thinking, "OMFG being a model is so not what I thought this job was gonna be!" You know she was hoping for a bikini and a beach, not a shapeless apron and an Ikea kitchen!
We've all been stuck in conversations we can't get out of. Pity poor Red in McCall's 5864:
"And then Linda said she was going to bring a lemon pie and I said no, I wanted to bring my lemon chiffon cake and we can't have too much lemon at the luncheon because when there's too much tartness in a menu it really takes away from the savory quality of the casseroles, which is what anyone who knows anything about cooking knows but would you believe that Sheila Johnson said..."
Sometimes being overly polite, like Red there, just leads to pain. It doesn't hurt to take a page from the animal kingdom in these situations. I once had a wonderful dog named Hopkins -- a Corgi/Shepherd mix full of attitude who basically looked like a German Shepherd who'd been hit by a shrinking ray. Anyway, every morning we'd walk by a house where another dog would throw itself at the fence, barking its fool head off. Most dogs, given that situation, would bark right back -- but Hopkins would trot on by without a break in his step, without even a glance to that yapping idiot. And I can't help but be reminded of that every time I look at Advance 9798:
There's Purple, yap-yap-yapping...and Black and White just blissfully tunes her out. Well done!