There's a strange psychology surrounding the origin of destroyed things.
On the one hand, in all their honest glory, they're the pinnacle of effortlessness. So effortless, in fact, as to be considered lazy. Bum-like, even.
On the other, they're lame attempts at apparent apathy- often mocked for their surmised stupidity.
Example >> How many times have you, upon wearing a deconstructed piece of clothing, been asked "if you paid extra for that"? (NEVER GET'S OLD, RIGHT??!)
Torn jeans, faded blouses, shredded tees -- they've become impetuses for mockery rather than emblems of effortless cool.
So what's a girl to do? Wait patiently for her beloved (and initially whole) clothing to deteriorate, or purchase seemingly naturally-destroyed clothing in order to mimic that organic look?
Well, what about neither?
See, I've become rather fond of what I like to call the "articulate annihilation" of my clothing. Carefully orchestrated ruination of key sartorial elements for that tactfully tattered look.
This way, you get the badass benefit of having clothes that are less than whole, while forgoing the whole hipster-who-wears-faux-destroyed-stuff stereotype by fully admitting to the artful reinterpretation of your wardrobe.
Case in point: These slick & symmetrical knee-slit jeans & this artistically hand-shredded work of wonder by Raquel Allegra.
Ruined, yes. But remarkably so.
Do you have "distressed" items in your closet? Do they make you feel effortless? Or is the organic nature of said items all a guise?
|tee: Raquel Allegra, jeans: ASOS, shoes: thrifted|
Some of my favorite delicately distressed gems:
|Each X Other|
|Rag & Bone|