I actually hate the word "trend".
Or any variation of said word in which it's used in an aspirational context. See: "On trend", "trendy", or any other relatively obnoxious iterations of that hopelessly generic word.
Because, really : what is a "trend"? A self-dictated affection for a personally flattering style?
It's a top-down dictation. An unfortunately culturally-acceptable way of thinking inside the box without actually thinking ahead.
Isn't it strange how being "on trend" or "ahead of the trend" or "trendy" is considered in some ways as being ahead of the game?
Wouldn't a true revolutionary disregard the notion of a "trend" all together?
Why is knowing that "denim on denim" is cool again so essential to a "fashionista's" repertoire? Shouldn't creativity be valued above the ability to imitate others?
It's an "issue" I struggle with on a daily basis. And frankly, I'm a hypocritical little bugger.
Several times a day I'm asked "what's in" - a question with a totally subjective answer but whose audience expects something entirely objective.
"Plaid is in", "cobalt blue is in", "reflective 'sunnies'" are in", I say, melting inside at my total obtuseness. But people ask and they shall receive - all while I silently cringe inside.
I mean, what else is there to say? That "comfort" is in? That "happiness" is in? That in the end, you'll work whatever makes you happy?
|shoes: Nine West, pants: Jbrand, shirt: ASOS|
Yes. But for some folks, happiness only comes with being "in the know" and -- yes, "ahead of the game" -- and only my phony reassurances of "trend accuracy" can give them that.
And I ask you: how interesting is a morning news segment in which I sit, hands empty, and tell the folks behind the camera that nothing and simultaneously everything is in style - because it's up to them to make it that way? Wouldn't I just look uninformed & lazy? Wouldn't the audience be let down?
So do I keep silent and fail to give "knowledgeable" guidance, or do I play into a top-down scheme in order to reassure those who ask?
photos by Matt Engelhart