If you follow me on Instagram,
You'll know that I've done a bit of dabbling in NYFW over the last couple of days.
Which is cool. (and, according to Refinery29, #basic so... #woOt)
Shows are fun, people-watching is aces, and shoe-watching is even better.
I'm a fan of the spectacles themselves, and I don't think it will ever get old to see a viscerally killer look swoop down across a crisp white runway surrounded by a subtly edgy soundtrack amidst the energy of a hyper-focused crowd.
Interestingly, MB, cut out the opening sequences of each of these shows -
which were, incidentally, the best parts of the show. (Save for Lacoste's final walk)
And though I love to scope out the awkward politics of show seating (bloggers getting bumped, Jonas's getting prioritized, frenemies faking kindness, celebrities faking everything, etc, etc), I'm less concerned about that idiocy now than ever.
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I highly recommend this. |
I used to get anxiety about not introducing myself to key bloggers - or rubbing shoulders with editors - or, quite frankly, not being one of the two.
And true - if I'm honest with myself, there will always be that sense of inadequacy that comes along with sharing a space with those who've "made it" - whatever that might mean.
Yet my mind has begun to wander elsewhere:
As in, Is that really what I want?
Would I choose a life where fakeness is prioritized over authenticity?
Where sharing trumps doing?
Where appearing to be outweighs the act of being itself?
Where appearing to be outweighs the act of being itself?
Do I respect these people, or simply envy them?
And do I envy them for their capabilities, or their privileges?
Maybe this is all just a subtly veiled defense mechanism to feel more confident about my own insignificance.
But I can't help but feeling a seeping sense of apathy creeping into my every fashion-oriented interaction.
Should I be concerned that I don't care?
Or should I use that flippancy to fuel whatever subsequent confidence I obtain via the loss of concern for the judgements of others?
Cheers.
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