I've been cursed with the seasonal lurgy. It caught up with me sometime last week between Euston and Camden on the Northern line. A hot flush and a dizzy spell in your twenties can only mean one thing - it's that time of year again when that bastard mid-week hangover meets the Decemeber chill and the two tussle over your immune system until you almost pass out and face plant the scuzzy tube seat next to you. Or vomit into the fake Louis Vuitton belonging to the woman squashed up against you. That's pretty standard though, those things are fugly and I fully intend to make it my mission to destroy each and every one of them in this city with my seasonal chunder.
Sorry, enough vom talk....
Anyhoo, so I'm ill and finding myself confined to my flat with only a pile of magazines and the www for company. For me this means the joy of an absolute blogathon: something which is usually confined to my eat-and-you'd-miss-it lunch break, I've been scrolling through hours of outfit posts, 'inspirational imagery', belated catwalk reports and in-store tip offs. Lovely stuff. But last night as I clicked the laptop screen shut before shuffling off to bed I didn't feel such gratification from my blog viewing binge. I was actually just pretty pissed off....
Personally, I adore fashion because it's fun. Yep, I know it is the architecture of society, it's one of the most significant ways of conveying the mood of a culture and it encapsulates the aesthetic of generations, but seriously guys, when did it loose its sense of humour? Fashion taken too seriously is just painful - it bites at your ankles and chases you around the room trying to strangle you with a pair of black leather-look leggings. Minimalism is beautiful and exudes control and elegance but if I have to see another photo of a sullen faced (yet beautiful) top-knotted girl in a beige buttoned up shirt I'm going to hurl (AGAIN. And this time all over a beige buttoned up shirt, which I'll take a photo of and post on my blog. HAH.)
Also, I totally get it that a large slice of the allure of the high-fashion world is that it excludes rather than includes: nothing would seem aspirational if it was smiling and dancing and asking for hugs in every other photo. And I suppose those who do embrace fashion in the whimsical, frivolous way get sideways looks on the street because people assume that you are a freaky colour clashing crazeee. But blogging is magical because it gives anyone who has an opinion a voice - even if it only gets heard by one person, at least its out there - so why not use it to make the steely stick thin fashion world a little bit more real and a little cosier? I'm probably getting pissy over a small minority of whats out there. Maybe I just stumbled across the wrong pages. Maybe I'm just too zoned out on pain killers and I've been removed from social interaction for far too long and I'm being a massive grouch..... PERFECT - I'm off to take a photo of myself looking moody, wearing something minimal and sucking in my cheeks. YESS I'M SO IN.
No comments:
Post a Comment