I shall divulge you with this thought which cannot seem to fade, - like the lingering scent of Chanel No. 5 on my shoulder padded blouse that I have secretly bought without my mom's knowledge - that fashion has been a paramour behind my designer doors, an object of reverence that I can never stop but adore. As maturity arrives, I realize that I'm charmed by how fashion elevates one's beauty.
There ought to be a church for fashion.
Meaning, I love fashion. I can't tear my eyes off Vogue. I have this buzzing anxiety when I hear that the latest edition of Harper's have arrived. I am obsessed, so obsessed with how glossy fashion magazines can be. They are my bibles. And, if I were to be stranded on an island and could take only one thing with me, it would be fashion magazines. I want to die with images of me, wearing what those people are wearing. Then, as my heart stops, there will be beauty imprinted in my every fibre of my soul.
You may say that I am crazy. You might laugh and think that I must be some kind of sick joke. You then ask: Are you in love with the sight of anorexics gracing the pages of W? Don't you think waiting for a Birkin bag is stupid? What in the world are you thinking, that fashion is everyone's bodhisattva? And don't forget! Models have actually died because the fashion industry promotes thinness as beauty. You must be really skinny! No, you must be out of my mind!
Rip me into pieces, you fashion haters. Rip me all you can.
Like other fashion-loving men and women, I am normal. I love food. I love being loved. It is just that sometimes, I feel that people who loathe fashion, must inwardly loathe themselves. When they cannot stand this self-loathing, they start to take their anger out on the mirror, on their clothes, then fashion. I pity them, these people. They must be very insecure, like anorectics. Don't ask me how I know it. You will come to know it soon.
Before you make a counter attack, I shall ask: have you watched the Japanese drama Real Clothes? The protagonist hates fashion and dressing up. She believe that as long clothes are comfortable, then it is enough. There is no need for fashion because it is pretentious. Unnecessary. Vapid.
I cannot ignore such cruel words these people throw at fashion. I cannot.
Each time some idiot blames fashion for manufacturing this idea that being anorexic is beautiful, it makes me angry. Why? Why does it makes me angry, you ask. Then you say, isn't it fashion's fault?
No, my friends. Fashion did not create this rule that being skinny is pretty. It is those irresponsible idiots who create these unnecessary rules and use them under the name of fashion. Therefore, you, my friend, have mistaken the concept of fashion.
Fashion is not the new Hitler.
It does not point a gun to your head and force you to own things that you do not. Advertising does. Reiterate, fashion does not. If sieved from the flours of capitalism, it is easy to see that fashion is an art, like Mona Lisa. It smiles down at you, regardless of who you are, what shape you have. You may be chubby but there is always room for nice clothes. You may have a body like a bamboo and still find something which speaks your individuality across the room.
In other words, there is no flaw that fashion cannot fix.
When I was 12, I used to hate fashion, like you fashion-haters do now. I hated buying clothes. I hated wearing dresses. I thought that they were ridiculous. Often, I wonder why people would spend their one month's or one year's salary on 2.55s instead of saving up on a house. Fashion used to be something incomprehensible to me.
So, I wore what I think I ought to wear. Some jeans. Some insignificant tee. Just to wear something for the sake of wearing it. Then one day, I got my first magazine: Seventeen. I look at how people dressed up. At first, I scoffed at the idea of wearing something so ridiculous like a mini-skirt. But as editions passed, I somehow realize that style and fashion gives one personality.
That was my first encounter with fashion.
So I tried to embrace it. It was hard at first. I had my fair share of pink days. It was such an easy colour to wear when you were young and when your head is filled with nothing but thoughts of flowers. It looked tacky, but it was an essential brick for the house that I am today.
Moving on, there were times when I was crazy with the idea of wearing a dress. I always wondered how I would look in a dress. Would I look fat? Will there be bulges? Such questions plagued me. Expectedly, I evolved into a perfectionist and fell into the trappings of those who claimed to be harbingers of fashion.
Before you do you rah-cheer, I shall tell you the truth.
The truth is these people are not fashion heroes. Who is the fashion hero then? I would say, yourself, my dear. There is no greater designer or stylist than yourself because only you can truly understand what you need to wear. What you want to wear. What image or essence you want to accentuate.
You can argue with me, say that people in the fashion industry are suffering. Alexander McQueen died. Some Brazillian model died. Daul Kim hung herself. But that, is the fashion industry. Like any other industry. Whatever happens in the industry stays in the industry. Sometimes, it is just so easy to mix things up. Humans are just so typical of over-generalising things. I do that too but I try not to because I know I would get an F if I were to write something like this in my university essay.
If it is not clear enough for you, I shall say this again. You dress only to impress yourself. You dress to tell people who you are. Like a name. Why is that you need a name? To differentiate yourself from others. To find your niche.
There is a place for everyone in the world of fashion.
If one truly understand fashion, then one will understand that there is a style for those who believe in it: emo, goth, punk, military, grunge, no-style, Topshop-style, Chanel-tweed suit style. Even if you are have luxirare or Her Gaganess' unique flair, you shall not be left out in the eyes of fashion.
Truly, fashion is enlightenment that arrives in the shape of a 2.55 ( or maybe Herve Leger bandage dress for you). When you become aware of what fashion really is, then you will become aware of what you are really made of and you won't be troubled by this very simple yet complex question of who you are.
Because you are what you wear.
