The Fairytale of Fashion Week

Feathers aflutter, stilettos at the ready. No this is not The Sales at a high-end couture boutique.

This, is Fashion Week.

A time when every key capital city in the world is overrun with insatiable, lusting, rich women.

God help the guy who crosses these women though.

With their own terminology and clique uniforms, they judge all they survey: “Oh I ADORED that Chanel story, Largerfeld’s take on the glacier handbag was a masterpiece!”

Personally I found it tacky, like a child superglued feathers onto a box. Just because Anna Wintour approves of it, and it gets a whole page in Vogue doesn’t mean it’s good (hear me, fashionistas?). That shrivelled crow of a bitter cynic should crawl back to her cave. No need for fashion in the dark. (I saw The September Issue. Awful waste of time. 1 star for seeing her stressed.)

These fashionistas act like groupies at a rock show in the majority. Crowding outside venues, clutching totems of fashion power (Chanel 2.55 in Noir, anyone?), hoping to glimpse their idol, and -gasp- perhaps score a spare seat at the show?!

The rows of power are a game of fashion politics. Further forward, better, where you can see the models sweat and grunt from the front row? “You’re so hot right now.”

What such people fail to realise is the essential difference between fashion and style.

Every single item of apparel and accessory is in Fashion. Think about it. It’s on a constantly revolving conveyor belt of Time. Jumpsuits and camel are in, stripes are out, graphic prints are in, velvet, leather, even PVC.

Now they even have fashions for hairstyle and make-up.

Am I the only one who thinks the point of owning clothes is to look different from everyone else? To express yourself?

If you take someone else’s idea of what you should wear, without changing it or thinking for yourself, what is the point? You may as well be a mannequin for all that individuality.

Style is a timeless quality. We know when we see it. The guy in a leather jacket, the girl in a well-fitting jersey shift dress, these tools that we call clothes and jewelery are expressly different and kept on rotation so shops can sell us the latest look. If every shop sold every look, imagine how much less you would buy.

Adds up, doesn’t it?

I used to be a fashion-follower (fashionistas are too brainwashed in the Cult of Couture to realise their folly) and it was an addiction. It happens to men as much as women. We fall for ad campaigns and aspire to be like the beautiful god-like models, because looks are the key to happiness, right?

I lost so much money. When I had run out, I started to look around. Not only at the boxes of still unused formalwear, the boots, the watches but at the world.

We have Choice.

Now I base my fashion choices on what I like. I find it entirely of my own volition. I hate 9/10 of what I see in fashion magazines. Clothes are meant to make you look good, that is why we’re so selective about them. They make us feel better because we feel better looking.

How many items of clothing you own truly make you look better?That couldn’t be improved at all?

You buy things because they look wonderful in themselves: smart piping, designer logo/visible trademark print, shiny soft fabric.

Fashion can be art. I am a believer in that. But of the catwalks I see, almost none of it is.

It isn’t about “innovation”. No table skirts, or machine-sprayed dresses. That’s shock value. It is about a human being. Wearing something to cover part of their natural flesh and make them look beautiful.

That is art. It doesn’t require a certain number on the tag or the name of a person you have never met (and probably don’t want to, trust me).

Don’t fall for it. This fall, see past the labels. See past McQueen (don’t get me started), $$$$ supposed value, colours like Noir, Ivory, Toffee, Chocolate and the lies they tell you.

If Fashion is really your friend, it’ll stay with you even when you stop with the expensive habit of excessive buying.

I’m happy to report that for a few years now I have in fact been ahead of the trends. I wore stripes, grey, berets and toffee colours, and many more trends before they came back in. Even neons for nightclubs.

Catwalk shows should be taken as a form of entertainment. If you went to a ballet show they wouldn’t expect you to walk out wearing tights and a tutu, would they?

Sugarplum fairies are fairytales. So is the vision the Fashionable sell you. This is a mass cult that often in jest cite The Fashion Gods. Too seriously taken, for fabric.

Size Zero & the Fashion Whores

The beauty of a culture reflects its values and emotional state.

Generally, as far as other people go, I say Hey, live how you want as long as it doesn’t impact me. Bother me, and I will bother you. With Size Zero, I think if they’re healthy, fine, let them do whatever they want to, but honestly, how many people are naturally healthy and that doll size? Where it impacts their health in favour of an image, that’s when you need to intervene.

Parade of the Fashion Whores

Nowadays, Amazonian-limbed, food-deprived children stomp catwalks, looked to as representatives, conforming to a new androgyny rooted in politically-correct  non-sexist motivation, designed to appeal to all.

Our “models” are angry, their pain apparent, the emaciation a physical representation of our own dissatisfaction with our lives.

Who says Fashion isn’t relevant?

They, the models, have the tokens of happiness; money, fame, looks, but they evoke an emptiness in the eyes sympathetic to us, not dissimilar to our own ingrained self-loathing at the lives we have chosen.

“If only” is not just the cry of the aspiring fashionable, pawing at the window of a designer store, but is a materialistic metaphor of us, pawing at the imaginary altar of future, potential contentment.

…You just can’t go on without that new cashmere sweater.