an update: a few of my favorite things were mentioned, or rather, merely glossed over in my previous post about, ahem, jealousy. i've since come to terms with my savage, nearly flatulent, rabid beast. i've flogged him into submission. he likes it. he's not just resting. he's begging for more pain. so i deliver routine whippings, as needed, to silence him. and so, for now, my latest bout with jealousy is contained.
but what a lot of strength it can take to tame it. but, ah, as i well know: strength becomes me.
and so does...for lack of a better word: FASHION.
i prefer my fashion as an art form. and i believe it is one of the highest art forms we know. after all, what other art form can we not only view but touch and, most truly and completely, immerse ourselves in?
unlike so many others, when i saw "when the devil wears prada" i never viewed meryl streep's character, miranda, as a witch (as she is meant, albeit lovingly, to be portrayed). rather, i recognized the need for her fierce defense of a thing so lovely as bodily adornment. how true she was when she dissected that hideous blue j.crew knockoff sweater her assistant wore:
"You think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select out, oh I don't know, that lumpy blue sweater, for instance, because you're trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don't know is that that sweater is not just blue, it's not turquoise, it's not lapis, it's actually cerulean. You're also blindly unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar De La Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves St Laurent, wasn't it, who showed cerulean military jackets? And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of 8 different designers. Then it filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic casual corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of a clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and so it's sort of comical how you think that you've made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you're wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room.
i may have clapped out loud in the theater. thankfully, i sat next to a fashionista herself, transplanted from new york city to western massachusetts where we both worked in a small advertising shop, missing terribly our....well....our art. that need to express ourselves creatively through...for lack of a better word: fashion.
anyway, this is just a blog to blog. i'm about to head north for a vacation and i was craving sharing some of my favorite things...with the select few (whoever you are other than my mom, my cousin, and a friend or two) who actually bothers to read my various rants.
So...here are some things from the past season...and some things from earlier seasons....you know you're in a recession when Marni is on sale so quickly. sigh. sad. unfair. they should put some of that god-awful (yes this is a judgement, sue me) crap they call "art" on sale down in chelsea in new york. paintings that have no right to hang anywhere but in a filthy gas station lavatory. i mean, hold a sidewalk sale for some of that utter junk. relieve the world of its misfortune. let it die in peace and away from our viewing. but i digress.
onto happier thoughts, grander musings, and the loftiest of all inspirations. for you. for all of us. go on and adorn yourself beautifully. you owe it to yourself. and to those around you. consider what you wear a gift not just for you---but for those with whom you grace your presence. and, please, a request: for those of you who don't know the difference between fashion labels and fashion as art, please, please, please, try, at least try, to get some kind of education.
and thank you, to those that do "get it." for the rest of us, please, continue to walk tall, carry a big handbag (or not) and be proud of the art you so carefully choose to share with the world.
your body: a canvas.
your question: what masterpeice shall it be today?
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