when I bought this shirt,
My naive self actually thought that I was being unique.
An obnoxious print, an obnoxious collar, and a tiny little obnoxious tassel on the collar to boot --
What could possibly be more original?
Anything could be more original. Because I didn't realize until two days ago that this gem of a find was actually a complete imitation of every Versace shirt ever.
Since you guys are pretty nice,
and because I doubt you thought that highly of my fashion know-how in the first place,
I feel safe admitting here to this mortifying err.
And though it seems small in comparison to say, world hunger/mass genocide/world war III/pretty much anything,
the realization did in fact impact me quite deeply.
Well, here's the deal:
In September, I headed to New York for a few days of fall fashion week.
Into my way overweight suitcase went far too many shirts to be anywhere near practical, but ultimately, I decided on this one for a day of fawning and frolicking around Lincoln Center.
|don't let anyone ever tell you I don't know how to pose.|
I mean....this one-leg-half-squat's pretty killer...am I right, or am I right?
(Fine, I was peackocking. ok? whatever.)
I'd actually had a much more elaborate ensemble planned, but at the last minute, decided that a high-waisted pair of black pants and a sufficiently gaudy blouse would have to do. I can only venture so far outside of my comfort zone without sacrificing every semblance of self-confidence.
A N Y H O W.
To my surprise, I found myself eerily grinning back at...myself...on a few pretty nice websites only days after the prance. But why?
Compared to, say, every other weirdly dressed person hanging around The Embassy, I looked mediocre at best.
Maybe, just maybe, I thought, it wasn't my outfit, but my overall vibe. Maybe I seemed important - famous - confident - powerful.
Maybe the street photogs mistook me for a mini (read: taller) Man Repeller - a brunette Blonde Salad - a tamer Tamu?
No .such .luck.
Turns out they just thought I was important enough to be "gifted" Versace.
So what does this mean? We all already know that 'street style' is dominated by bloggers wearing otherwise unattainable get-ups, and I realize it's a question as old as time, but without brands, how would we determine "taste"? If something can't be "so Chanel" or "very 80s D&G", on what do we base our comparisons? Our judgements?
Is it true that people either "have style, or they don't"? Or is "style" nothing more than an exceptionally perceptive radar and a propensity for subtle reinterpretation? Is sheltering ourselves the only way to really overcome brand consciousness and forwarding our individual aesthetic?
Does my choosing of this blouse, unawares of its origins, demonstrate style savvy, or the essence of naivety?
Are you really sick of questions and wondering why I can't stop typing?
photos by sheeds
photos by sheeds