Oh no. No no no no no no no. Leggings. Just say no to leggings.

We have commented on McMegan McCain here once or twice before. We think that she is a very nice young lady despite the fact that her father is a McNutty old man and her mother has a McMonkey on her McBack. We like the fact that she is probably a sweetheart. But this cannot stand:

What’s really meaningful to McCain is fashion. She dreams of being a designer, and she loved Chris March, the obese, effeminate contestant on Season 4 of "Project Runway," until he furnished several garments with . . .

"Human hair," she says with some disgust, and after that March was dead to her.

Today, Meghan McCain wears: a big sweater over a pair of leggings and a black cap tilted ever so slightly to the side. On her feet are an unusual pair of white Converse sneaker-boots that go all the way up her shins, purchased during a campaign layover in New Hampshire. While a sizable portion of the photographs McCain posts to her Web site involve her sleeping — on buses, on planes and even on what appears to be a hotel concierge’s desk — she nevertheless always manages to look camera-ready.

She carries five pairs of shoes around with her and has, she says, "the biggest suitcase on the trail."

Baseball is really meaningful to me…but I’m not expecting a call from the Royals and they suck.

I may be a fifty-something old man, but I have years of working in fashion merchandising, design, and purchasing. I know a kick pleat from a box pleat. I know a gusset from a godet. I know Vera Wang from my wang. I live in a world of women with Project Runway and What Not To Wear running 24/7 and Go Fug Yourself as a homepage. We don’t have a family Bible; we have stacks of InStyle and Vogue.

Having said all that, I can’t figure out at which Hot Topic/Wet Seal/Forever 21 Mall-Hell Megan gets her clothes and, more importantly, why none of them have any mirrors. I appreciate that she is trying so hard with bold colors and kicky patterns and such before she enters her Republican dotage and has to start wearing various synthetic stretch fabrics and popular couch patterns. That has to be a frightening prospect for any young woman.

Maybe we can chalk this up to what a friend of mine calls "the triumph of money over taste" in which case we can only hope that she rises above her privileged beginnings and quits buying clothes like a fourteen year-old binging with a years worth of babysitting money while on a sugar-high.

I’m not asking for boring, I’m asking for good taste. After all, her country has asked so little of her to this point. Remember: Show you care, watch what you wear.