Thursday, April 18, 2013

The Ulimate Maximalist

I've contemplated deleting this blog, because, let's face it, I don't write anything substantial. I am the white noise of the internet and nobody needs that. But then I read about some exciting news that gave me all these feelings I just had to write about!

"Christian Lacroix will design a couture collection for the house of Schiaparelli." They're trying to revive the Schiaparelli house and this collaboration with Lacroix is one of their attempts at it. Although, for now, it's just one collection, I'm still extremely excited for Lacroix to be designing again, and that it's couture is just the icing on the cake! They have yet to name a creative director for the house, but my fingers are crossed that they give it to Lacroix. Who better to revive a house than an already adored designer? 



See, my adoration for Lacroix is like nothing else in this world. He was that one designer that really got me into fashion, and y'all know how much I love fashion. As a preteen, I would watch Fashion TV in our kitchen and whenever I liked a collection, I would write down the name that flashes at the end of every one. Always it would be Lacroix that filled my notepads. All that flash and pizzazz, how could I not admire his creations? 




I call Lacroix a maximalist. because he is that. That's why I fell in love with his designs. Although, at that age, I also liked Cavalli and D&G, Lacroix is different. Sure, anyone can do extravagant, but Lacroix makes opulent. He can put in lace, gold, sheer, neon in one look and you'd still marvel at its elegance. I want to be able to look at a garment and marvel at something new each time, and that's what a Lacroix piece does. 


One thing about Lacroix pieces is that they made great editorials: that can't be denied. They're such characters on their own, and they tell such a story that even if you just photograph it on a white background, it would still catch your interest! 


Most admirable about the designer is he stuck to his vision. He had to eventually close down his house, but admirable, nonetheless. In 2009, his house filed for bankruptcy. We always end up losing the true artists in fashion, usually due to their creations not selling. And it's a sad reality that not everyone can afford and appreciate a 30 layer lace hand embroidered gown. But this is a song I've been singing since I could sing. What's new? Money rules the world, not art! So even if they do name Lacroix creative director for Schiaparelli, I'm afraid there won't be the same extravagance that we so loved back then. Especially now, when everyone's mad for Celine and Raf Simons. I'm always hoping maximalism comes back, though! And if anyone can make it happen, it's Lacroix!






Monday, February 25, 2013

NB

Recently, I've noticed that the menswear photos on the internet are proliferated by men in New Balance sneakers. I was, like you probably are now, surprised to see that this was becoming a trend and that *gasp* it actually looked.... good? Also like you, I conjure images of my father when I think of New Balance sneakers. He used to own a pair and we used to make fun of him for it. Now, I suppose, he gets the last laugh, because I have to beg him to buy me my own.

I've been telling my male friends to buy themselves New Balances just so I could be stylish vicariously through them. But everyone of them doubted my trend forecasting abilities, so I decided that I would prove them all wrong and buy myself a pair. Also I decided to make this blog entry to also convince you, readers (all ZERO of you) to maybe hop in on the bandwagon!



So originally, it was the men who wore New Balance often....




But the ladies have really made this style into their own....



They DO look cool, don't they? And just imagine not having to sit every ten minutes from blister pains! I just got more excited about buying a pair! 

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Mixes

How do you guys feel about pop songs? Are you one of those holier-than-thou assholes who think that not listening to mainstream music makes you a better person? An yet you always find yourself jacking off to a picture of the Biebs anyway? Or crying with a pint of ice cream to Taylor Swift? Well, you're in luck! Because I've got the thing just for you! I've created a playlist that is full of your love-to-hate hate-to-love top 40 tracks remixed to appease your I-only-listen-to-underground-music assfuckery. *Note: this won't cure your being a cunt

Justin Bieber Boyfriend (InTransit Remix)
One Direction Kiss You (Vicktor Taiwo)
Blackstreet No Diggity (Boeboes 1k Likes Remix)
Kanye West Clique (Singularity Remix)
Beyonce Check On It (XXYYXX Remix)
Marina and the Diamonds Lies (Zeds Dead Remix)
TLC Unpretty (Follow Me Remix)
The Wanted Glad You Came (Clark Kent Remix)
Katy Perry The One That Got Away (Tommie Sunshine & Disco Fries Club Mix)
Usher ft Diplo Climax (Raf Riley Remix)
Fun. ft. Janelle Monae We Are Young (Feature Cuts Remix)
Madonna Girl Gone Wild (Avicii Remix)
Marina and the Diamonds Primadonna (Burns Remix)
Bruno Mars Locked Out of Heaven (R3hab Remix)




Friday, January 25, 2013

Fashion of the People

The 'democratization of fashion' is a term dropped freely these days. Let me illustrate. Every once in a while (and yes, it happens this often now), the fashion people of the internet would be divided. There's the side of the believers and the side of the non-believers. I like to call it fashion civil war. I'm talking about every time designers collaborate with fast fashion retailers. The most recent one, the H&M MMM collab, was probably the one which really surprised everyone. Martin Margiela made clothing that would puzzle the average person. Put it simply, his label* would be one of the least likely, if not the least, to collaborate with a fast fashion retailer. As expected, it generated polarized reactions. I was on the side of excitement when I heard about it. Although I had no intentions of buying the collection, I was still curious to see how they would interpret the label's aesthetics to cater to the H&M costumer. It wasn't until I had a chat with a friend who had a different opinion that I realized maybe what I am so excited for could be the very thing that destroys what I love-- fashion.

Talking about a love for fashion is really embarrassing for me; even more so when I have to reiterate that nope I don't just love fashion, I love high fashion. It seems so snobbish and pretentious. But I'm a university student living in a third world country. I can't afford to be snobbish. So of course, I enjoy very much when fashion tries to get down to my level. $50 Lanvin skirt? Don't mind if I do! $90 Karl Lagerfeld? I'll only have to skip 8 meals instead of the 80 that I would have had to if I were to buy real Lagerfeld! I would get to wear Comme des Garcons and not lose all my friends in the process because of how insane they would think I look? See, it really seems like designers + fast fashion = the best of both worlds! But can we really have both things and not have them taint each other? Well according to T.S. Eliot, "what happens when a new work of art is created is something that happens simultaneously to all the works of art that preceded it." (Damn, look at me applying my Literature training~)

Going back to the H&M MMM collaboration, which I think is perfect in illustrating my point, I believe a history check is in order! Try to google Martin Margiela and look for a photo of him. Yup, it's that hard. It's because there are only few in existence. He is, even to his fans, elusive. He has managed to keep away from the spotlight and grant little interviews. He doesn't even do the usual bow after presenting a collection. Mr. Margiela respected his designs enough to let them stand on their own without any advertising. His was a name that only the real lovers of fashion recognized (At least before Kanye West). So you could see how odd it was that his label would compromise this principle? And for what? More money? Does a fast fashion collaboration even make bank? Or is the label trying to get its name out there to expand to a new market? If so, then that would mean compromise. I have to shed a tear for the loss of true artistry. It was a sad time when Mr. Margiela stopped designing, but one gets a feeling of offense now that they're disrespecting what Mr. Margiela so firmly believed in. And maybe we could let it slide if it were someone like Lazaro and Jack or the Mulleavy sisters (who ridiculously enough have an ongoing collaboration with Starbucks), but Mr. Margiela has contributed so much to the art of fashion that it's blasphemous, almost, and disrespectful to use his name and produce something he would not agree to.

I cannot go on being euphemistic, because there really is an inherent elitism in fashion that is impossible to tiptoe around. Fashion is not for the majority. If it was, then it wouldn't really be fashion. My professor was explaining how business and art don't really mix, because the majority will never really understand art. But it's unfair and inaccurate to assume that high fashion is pure and untainted. High fashion has to break its back to cater to what the people want too. I could recount the heartbreak of seeing designers, true artists and visionaries, lose their jobs, because their work was too inaccessible and difficult and expensive to produce. In fact, so many of my favorite designers have lost their jobs over this. At the end of the day, money still makes the world go 'round. Fashion is not like sculptures or paintings; it is art that is utilizable and necessary. Therefore, everyone is involved in the discourse of fashion, and people participate in this discourse by buying.

On the other side of the spectrum is fast fashion. It may seem that I have shown disdain towards it, but I honestly don't. I don't love it either. I don't enjoy knowing that so many people know where I bought my clothes and that they own it too. But then again, I cannot afford Dior or Balenciaga. I don't think I'd even spend that much on dressing myself considering how much I hate doing it. I do however admire fast fashion for  giving people that alternative to expensive designer brands. Sure, it's sad that people don't understand the designs, that these are copied designs that they're buying, who actually conceptualized the trends, but for people who don't really give fuck all about fashion, it's great! Not everyone should care about fashion. It won't cure cancer or anything. And copying isn't a mortal sin. Every designer copies, even the high fashion designers! That's the thing about fashion is that you cannot copyright your designs. So, good on fast fashion for being there for the masses. But I would never think of fast fashion clothing as chic. If it's mass produced, then it's not really "fashion", in my opinion.

A little while ago, I made a post about fashion blogs and put that The Devil Wears Prada quote where Meryl Streep basically says that it's the high fashion people who dictate everything in fashion, including the ugly ass two dollar blue jumper that Anne Hathaway was wearing in the scene. I believe it's true! So does this mean I don't think that there is democratization in fashion? It may seem that way, but not entirely. Everyone's always talking about fashion bloggers who are given front row seats and after party invites. Bryan Boy, for example, is a boy from my high school who is now one of the most famous fashion bloggers today. He went from third world to first row fast! How democratic of the industry to let him in, huh? It's these normal everyday folk who suddenly get a say in fashion that tell that maybe fashion isn't so elitist anymore. The fact that I can dedicate a blog to the fashion industry means I've been granted access to a lot of information and it's all thanks to the internet. Some designers, notably Tom Ford, decide to close off their shows to the media, but what happens? He usually gets torn to pieces for being "an elitist douche." (Let's be real, he is) A lot of people are more open than not. Just count how many shows Tavi gets invited to! But fashion has a long way to go before we can actually say it's democratic or even accepting. With the industry's fat shaming and racism, high price tags and sweat shops, it remains very problematic and restrictive.

Everything is relational. The more democratic some parts of fashion are, the more elitist the other parts seem. And aren't those the ones we love the most: The purists, the nonconformists, the sticklers, the ones who stand their ground, the ones who don't sell out, the ones who stay true to their visions? The Miuccias and Yohjis and Anns and Reis and Ricks. It's great to want to make a lot of money and have your brand be known by everyone! But it's also great to have a small solid group of admirers who share your vision. It was a sad day when Margiela left his label and an even sadder day when they decided to go against his convictions. These purists are the minority in fashion and it's disheartening to see them leave.

So today's fashion is completely different than it was. There's the crazy fast trickling down of trends from De la Renta to Zara and then Forever 21 the next day! There's also the untarnished high brow stuff that tips the scale to art rather than money making. All these come together to become the state of fashion today. You know, thesis + antithesis = synthesis? (Damn, who would have thought learning Critical Theory would apply so much to fashion?) That kinda shit. And although I seem to favor the side of the select, I don't wish it on every aspect of fashion. I, for one, am glad to be witnessing and being part of fashion right now, where I can see live shows with just a click of a button. Where would I be and what would I be doing right now if fashion wasn't so unrestricted? Probably unable to write this blog post!

*Martin Margiela no longer designs for his namesake label but the house continues to make clothing in the same vein (up for debate but y'all get what I mean)

Thursday, January 24, 2013

For the Men Who Still Don't Get It

What if
all women were bigger and stronger than you
And thought they were smarter
What if
women were the ones who started wars
What if
too many of your friends had been raped by women wielding giant dildos
and no K-Y Jelly
What if
the state trooper
who pulled you over on the New Jersey Turnpike
was a woman
and carried a gun
What if
the ability to menstruate
was the prerequisite for most high-paying jobs
What if
your attractiveness to women depended
on the size of your penis
What if
every time women saw you
they'd hoot and make jerking motions with their hands
What if
women were always making jokes
about how ugly penises are
and how bad sperm tastes
What if
you had to explain what's wrong with your car
to big sweaty women with greasy hands
who stared at your crotch
In a garage where you are surrounded
by posters of naked men with hard-ons
What if
men's magazines featured cover photos
of 14-year-old boys
with socks
tucked into the front of their jeans
and articles like:
"How to tell if your wife is unfaithful"
or
"What your doctor won't tell you about your prostate"
or
"The truth about impotence"
What if
the doctor who examined your prostate
was a woman
and called you "Honey"
What if
You had to inhale your boss's stale cigar breath
as she insisted that sleeping with her
was part of the job
What if
You couldn't get away because
the company dress code required
you wear shoes
designed to keep you from running
And what if
after all that
women still wanted you
to love them.


Carol Diehl

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

I Dabble in Menswear

Menswear is foreign territory to me. In the years that I have been interested in fashion, I never cared for menswear. It just seems so limiting compared to womenswear. On the one hand, you could say that that is what makes it so interesting. When people are given little leeway, it forces them to create something new out of what they are given. There's really more challenge in menswear to be able to produce something fresh. I enjoy a lot of theatrics and drama in fashion, so I was never really drawn to menswear. However, through the maturation of my tastes, I have learned to enjoy more constructed and minimalist designs and so I thought I would finally check out the side of menswear (where I figured they relied heavily on tailoring and fit to improve a garment). (Who am I shitting? The reason I got into menswear was for the male models) (I am a fashion scholar, I do what I want!) I'm still a n00b at understanding and appreciating menswear and I can never form comprehensive critiques about the collections other than "I like it" and "Wow this blows"

But anyway, I still humor myself by looking at all the menswear collections! Some of my favorite designers do menswear too so I always like to see what they come up with. But then there are always those who only remind me how little I understand of this niche that is menswear. This season there were these:

Damn it I shouldn't have told all those chicks to watch me model!!


This needs no caption

Oh my god!!! Perfect outfit for our Lego Land x Astronaut cosplay!!

I'm Medusa's defective twin brother

I don't even fucking know what's happening man I'm just so scared

Prince and Lebron had a gayby

Biker snail

Uh the extravagance of my mustard cashmere juxtaposed with the garbage behind me is ART

Feel bad for this guy

In what planet would any of this work?
Remember Plank from Ed Edd and Eddy? He met Rick Owens

Why do even have to separate menswear from womenswear if they won't follow the norms???

This is the male equivalent of the alt girl look: gown + chuck taylors

Prince and Edward Scissorhands have a gayby

#fashin!!!!!


But in all seriousness (maybe not in ALL seriousness, it is fashion after all!) I do find some menswear collections to be thoroughly enjoyable! Not all of them befuddle me. This season, I enjoyed the quirky prints and textures inspired by John Waters from James Long. The stained glass print pieces from Alexander McQueen were  amusing, although sometimes I feel as if my bitterness towards Sarah Burton clouds my judgement. Maybe she's actually a good designer or maybe she sprung from the devil's asshole to destroy all that Lee worked his precious life for. Richard James showed a collection of posh suits and deep colored sweaters. It kind of has that aesthetic of a rich party Italian older guy who refuses to bang you in his Mercedes because he doesn't want to get stains on it. Lee Roach presented an almost monochrome collection (a few pieces were in very very dark blue). I always say this: I think boys look excellent in black. The few tiny buckles that permeate the pieces have become the centerpiece of the collection. That and the padded jackets are stellar. Contender for my favorite collection this season. Prada was good, but did not have an obvious theme unlike previous seasons where you would be able to identify the clothes as Prada when you see them worn. The knits and prints at Missoni are always great. Now that's a brand with an identity! Julien David showed a very cool collection with a streetwear flair. Givenchy was like 7th grade when everyone tied their jackets around their waists, but a billion times chicer with less zits and metal mouths. I apologize for this giant paragraph of nonsense, but it'y my attempt at critiquing menswear. Deserving of a mention is Hedi's return to menswear. I wasn't into high fashion when Hedi had his heyday so I can only take people's word for it when they say he was a genius in menswear. But after his blah debut for SLP (previously YSL) and his cookoo behavior, I find it hard to believe. I was still hoping to be proven wrong, but after the presentation of his first menswear collection for SLP, I stand by my opinion of him. I see his vision, because everything in the collection was so extremely cool: from the indie musician models to the music. I am very much attracted to the whole rocker aesthetic that permeates everything Hedi creates, so it puzzles me why I can't get behind his designs (although I found that I do like his work at Dior Homme) and his god damn photography style. But enough about disappointments! You're making the pirate sad!

Sad pirate :(


Ahh okay, enough jokes! I'm actually starting to love menswear more now that I see it's not just suits in different colors. The more ridiculous, the better, as I like to say. Obviously I've a long way to go before I can understand menswear. Remember when I was 13 and I used to think Roberto Cavalli was excellent? LOL. It takes time for people's tastes to mature and I just haven't gotten there yet with menswear! But it's so fun learning about something new! Maybe by 2014 this blog will be dedicated to three piece suits and Nick Wooster. We'll see!

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Getting By


A few days ago a close friend of mine posted a tweet that actually made me stop and think. Who would have thought that in the midst of all the "Wow this professor is so boring!!!" and "@hotguy99 let's hang out later ;)" there would be something poignant? The tweet said "Are you contented with just getting by?" It was obviously meant to encourage people, to shake them up and say "do more!" I remember all those times I told myself again and again that all I had to do was get by. I remember when that was the hardest thing in the world to do, when it was a struggle to just be.

But I am better now! Back then, I would look back and try to pinpoint when I started feeling that way, how it all started. I remember in junior year of high school when I would cry in bed but I could never remember why, only that I felt stupid for crying so much. So much of it was feeling stupid and selfish, that my feelings were completely unwarranted. I look back a lot, actually, and I still try to piece it all together. It's all just a blur and it makes no sense at all.

I doubt anyone ever really knew how bad it got, because I joked about it a lot in a self-deprecating manner. I never told anyone. When a friend would confide in me about fights with their boyfriend or betrayal with other friends, I'd think of how they would react if I confided in them that I was almost empty on the inside and something continues to swallow me up. But I never did tell and I avoided what would have been the barrage of pitying smiles and awkward silences. I avoided what would have been my parents telling me to "cheer up and it'll get better." There were no dramatic suicide attempts or anything like that. It sort of makes it that much harder to make sense of it all, because there was nothing concrete, just a lot of feeling shitty and not leaving the bed. I suppose the worst of it all was the first couple years of college. I remember the first week of school, how I wrote down on my notebook that I was happy to be in a new environment and I was almost certain I would feel much better. I didn't. All the people and the activities and the pressure just brought me down. The people, most specially, I think. I won't even try to make any sense of it, because it's pointless.

There was a time I was just waiting. I was waiting for what I thought was the inevitable fact that I would just go nuts or top myself or something. I considered getting help, but I felt stupid. A friend of mine was depressed and she was sent to the hospital for a while. She had to stop school. What do I have to show for my struggles? I didn't need help, it was all in my head, if I wanted to get better I could. Also the feeling of selfishness won over. How could I be so ungrateful of the wonderful life my parents built for me and still ask them to pay some shrink to teach me how to be happy? So I waited. I thought it wouldn't take long. It's been years, I'm bound to go off the rails soon. Then I wouldn't have to ask for help, people would just give it to me. Partly, I also wanted it to reach some conclusion to finally affirm what I had been feeling, that I had not been well and it wasn't just in my mind and I wasn't just being overly dramatic. It never reached that point. I never use the word depression, because I still can't be sure I had it. I never asked for help and was never diagnosed. If I start feeling that way again, I doubt I'll ever get help unless I'm already a self-sustaining adult.

I was sure I wouldn't live through my senior year in college. I wouldn't even be alive to start my thesis. I figured that my situation had gone on for too long, surely it would finally drive me off a building or into moving traffic before I reach Senior year. I never imagined the other option: that it would just go away and I'd get better. I guess that was the least likely possibility then. During my waiting period, I wasn't scared. I thought that when I finally get to the point where I'd want to end it all, then there'd be nothing I could do to stop myself. If I ever reached that point then so be it. And once I finally do it, then there are no regrets, just eternal sleep. Death was nothing to me then. Hearing me talk about it now I think of those emo kids we all make fun of on the internet. But it was how I felt. If I died, then I died. (One of the things that tells me I'm better now is that I'm afraid of dying.)

I couldn't tell you how I got better. How it ended is as much of a blur to me as how it all started. Little things like wanting to meet people and being able to like what I see in the mirror are the tell-tale signs (at least for me) that it's not as bad now. There are still a lot of things that feel wretched to me. And what's hard to understand is that these are the same things that mad me feel wretched before. My appearance, for example, has plagued me my whole teenage life. I still feel as bad about it, but it's a much different, less unhealthy; it's no longer that that would make me feel worthless.

The weird thing about getting better is having to adjust to normalcy. For a long time all I strived for was to get up, not let anyone know of my inner turmoil, not make my parents kill themselves with disappointment, and go to bed. The getting up was what I had the most trouble with, I think, but for the most part, I succeeded and here I am. It really was not easy. I didn't want to expose this metaphor to the public, but here it is. I felt like there was a baby inside me. Not that I was pregnant or anything, but that there was a toddler that I had to indulge and pacify. I had to do things I enjoyed so I would not go into a slump. There was no one to hand hold me through it all. It wasn't like the movies where my gal pals kidnapped me to go out dancing to feel better. No one knew I was fucking dying on the inside, so that same me who didn't want to do anything had to force myself to do something. A lot of the time I didn't even want to do the things I enjoyed, but I had to. Let's say you fucking love bacon (Who am I kidding, of fucking course you love bacon.) Imagine feeling so damn shitty that you start to despise bacon. And then imagine.having to force yourself to eat bacon because you need to feel not shitty. The baby metaphor got lost somewhere, but the point is that I felt like a baby in that I had to have my favorite things or else I would cry. School? Fuck that noise that shit would get me on the edge of a building faster than you could say Critical Theory. So everything just fell by the wayside and all I did was listen to music and study fashion. That was how it was getting by.

I keep saying that there was no clear point where I want from bad to fine and yet there was no gradual adjustment for me. I don't know how to strive for something other than to "get by." What do I do and what am I capable of now? I used to think I wouldn't be me anymore if I was happy. It felt like the sadness was so much a part of me that I'd be gone if it was gone. So it's odd looking back and realizing that it is gone and I am here and I'm still me. Of course I'm still the girl who hit a rough patch but I'm no longer the girl who is in a rough patch. And while I was in that tough time, I wondered what I could be accomplishing if only I was better. But I haven't become a prolific writer or a supermodel or Academy Award winner yet. Nobody can even tell that I'm better now. And I want to work on that. I want people to be able to see how I've improved. I want to prove to myself that I have gotten through the rough patch and I have moved on and I have learned from it and all that wishing to get better so I can be the best me I can be came true.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Barbie Doll


This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did pee-pee
and miniature GE stoves and irons
and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs.

She was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed strong arms and back,
abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.

She was advised to play coy,
exhorted to come on hearty,
exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
like a fan belt.
So she cut off her nose and her legs
and offered them up.

In the casket displayed on satin she lay
with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on,
a turned-up putty nose,
dressed in a pink and white nightie.
Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said.
Consummation at last.
To every woman a happy ending.