Tuesday, April 14, 2009


After a self-induced dose of Vogue overload this weekend, I realized why I was in the rut I was in.


Bah, you little a-holes. Seriously, they're out to get you. Just when you think you've become immune to their tricks, you're out at AA buying a 30 dollar cicle scarf. Eh, yikes. Guilty as charged perhaps, but you gotta live to learn, man.

So, with that being said.
-Maybe don't revert back to '05 with all of this bo-ho hippie shitake they're TRYING to bring back.
-Maybe don't mistake trends for classics (i.e. bandit scarves).
-Maybe don't make rules.

Yea, don't. Despite the fact that I'm continuing to contradict myself, I stand by the fact that rules are ballsack. The whole "self-aware" category in style is sort of losing its meaning, isn't it?

You have to be aware of everything around you. It's the whole inspiration aspect of your surroundings. Like the dull color of an old Cadillac, or the way your tinted shades make everything look expired, or how your lace-up's make you feel like you're in the 70's, or your grandmother's mauve appliances, or the old man who jogs his dog every morning, or how an old couch cushion cringes when you take a seat, or Diane Keaton.

You sort of have to be self-aware to notice how the little things divert all of those BIG things.

Learn to disregard that even though Fendi's new shiz is actually better than Lagerfeld's influence on this season's Chanel, that they still don't ooze all of the character of the old man and his faded orange and mustard tweeds that barely reach his ankles.

Atleast that's how I get dressed in the morning.


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