Adidas, Nike, Puma, Gucci, Moshino, Fendi, Prada, Versace, Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Valentino, Ralph Lauren, Armani Anxiety, Depression, Bi-Polar, Bulimia, Alcohol, Drugs, Nicotine, Painkillers, Caffeine, Sleep....labels and addiction.
Fashion is another form of addiction. Genuine or fake, it's always a question about integrity but unless you're a label snob you're not going to admit where you got it unless it was on sale and you'd never admit you'd be starving in order to fit into it and pay for it because you've got to live up to the glamorously high Instagram standards.
Charity finds and ebay bargains mixed in with granny's necklace and granddad's motorcycle jacket.
Fashion is a form of unity and rebellion. When I see women and girls with long straight hair in pullover jumpers skinny jeans and white trainers and no socks, too much highlighter and false eyelashes I feel like I'm gazing at a barbie doll, if Barbie could frown while talking to her friends or hoping to catch the bus in time or stressing about her studies.
Fashion is a form of expression, a form of armour against the elements and the judgements of the outside world. Men in hoodies pulled low, black or red trainers ready to run because you've got to check the boxes before you just do it. Work boots covered in concrete, hardhats covered in rain, yellow safety vests unable to reflect in the dreary weather. He's wearing a hooded penguin puffer coat and sliders with socks waiting on the corner for his mate to pick him up while the cats and dogs are on full parade and even from a distance I can tell that lock down's got him locked down and he just wants out.
There are days when I love blending in, earth tones that match my skin, but I love pastels too. Colour takes confidence. I admire a man who can pull off a pastel pink or yellow. On the rare days when I want to cheer myself up when going out I try to wear pink because it makes me happy, red makes me feel confident, black makes me feel invincible, invisible and strong but also that I'm either a ninja or going to the funeral of my sense of humour.
I love the quintessential luxury associated with the houndstooth pattern (although Scottish in origin for some strange reason I feel very British when I wear it). And although I love fashion and seeing other peoples style I'm enjoying trying to figure out my own.
I can't fake not being freezing in a dress or t-shirt after the sun goes down, the same way I would never wear a Gucci or Moshino t-shirt (simply due to the fact that neither brand appeal to me). I stopped paying attention to fashion when Valentino retired and I've never cared for trends but how it effects people, how it makes them feel, how it makes enables them to get through the day, that still fascinates me.
What you wear tells the world that you woke up today, and it can inform strangers as to when and why you Woke up (it can also tell them to piss off). But, like everything, if you strip it away a label you'll remember that it doesn't define you nor your self worth.
Comments
Post a Comment