encounters of the authentic, consequential, and sustainable: the industry that I have elected to immerse myself in admittedly does not fall into all of these categories on the reg (especially the sustainable bit). But then, fashion is so much more than the final product displayed on the runway. A model is nothing more than a hanger for a piece that has been worked over time and time again, pressed and pinned, only to then have the stitches let out to try to again get the exact right result. The stages can be traced back from the fabric to the sketch to the concept to the inspiration that came from a creative mind reinterpreting the world into a piece of art that you then get to live your life in. And from there they become gorgeous couture props that are forever captured in the glossy still frames making up aesthetic bibles for the stylishly conscious, the new generation in painterly mastery that simultaneously manages to pontificate the values of artisans and craftsmanship. Then, the most intimate of applications, the fact that garments become the medium via which we experience and reminisce our lives through. Afternoons spent lounging in a park in full hippy garb, nights where summer dresses reveal secret tanlines, fabulous boots worn enjoying a latte in the park… these ensembles may someday end up in a stored away in a trunk to be revisited at luxury, or to perhaps be passed on to some next generation’s muse.
And that’s really what its all about. Not the shallowness, or the self-obsessed (see: Ultra patio Tuesday night; the male Australian actor/model/musican/whathaveyou in his natural state of douchery). Get inspired. Why are we so transfixed on cultivating our outer shells when there is the potential for so much more within us; more of life to be appreciated; a beauty less observed lying in the details. Read a book. Go to a gallery. Enjoy art. Recognize the finer things in life, and not just because of an ostentatious price tag.
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