(Looks from Peter Som's Spring 2012 show on style.com)
Hiya Friday...I am so so tired but excited that somehow it's Fashion Week, even though I am in hot and busted Miami, a town whose style has never appealed to me (there I said it).
As we get older there are fewer things that make us giddy, excited, contagiously happy. It's not that we can't access those moments, it's that we're a bit choosier about them. I myself get that feeling from fashion, and I will most likely never stop getting it, because it is a huge part of what makes my heart race.
As a young girl, I used to sketch from the society pages of my mother's W and Vogue magazines. For as long as I can remember, I was under the influence of fashion. It's in my bones, really. My grandmother owned a clothing store, my grandfather manufactured coats, and my mother simply loved clothes, as did my dad. The coolest thing about growing up is that I had parents that let me express myself through fashion- they let me dye my hair bright red, they let me wear vintage overcoats with Paratrooper boots and long skirts, and they understood my obsession with Comme Des Garcons. And that's before I turned 16...
For many years, there was no doubt in my mind that I would work in fashion, but a brief stint in the industry in New York had me re-evaluating when I had the chance to work for one of the scariest women I have ever met- who was part vampire and part witch, way before True Blood celebrated these unique types of beastly hybrids. I decided being in New York was good enough- surrounded by amazing shops, designers, street chic hoardes who blew me away- I could admire from afar and read all of my magazines and still feel connected. Oh and I could shop. A lot. (And I did. Boy did I). I was so inspired by the city- I could be rock and roll, temptress, sophisticate, sweet, hip hop, or club chick- there were no limits and I thoroughly enjoyed each and every phase, from walking around in tie dyed vintage slips to rocking a fake fur neck scarf which an old office mate named Katrina. I cried at the end of "Unzipped" and recently watched Pierre Berge's take on his years with YSL in awe. I also love the influential canon of fashion movies like Bonnie and Clyde, Klute, Breakfast at Tiff's, Annie Hall, Barbarella, and all the rest. I can't get enough.
I can remember dozens and dozens of outfits- the brown suede button front mini I would wear with high boots when I first moved to New York with any of a number of black ribbed sweaters, the sexy baby blue satin blouse I would wear with black Levis, a belt with a huge buckle I bought at a flea market in Pasadena, and a fake fur when I met one particular man who would rock my world for five years, and then break my heart. The African necklace and skinny olive pants and black sleeveless tank I wore when I met another man, the one who I am still with today and is supportive of my fashion whims and tangents and doesn't get mad at me anymore when I can't sleep because of a particular pair of leather pants I saw at All Saints (this has happened). Or the fact that my biggest regret in life is having not bought the Louis Vuitton Griet bag when it was only available for a short time. Missed opportunities suck, people. They really do.
So it's Fashion Week and I'm sitting in Miami, sweating, watching live feeds of shows and still feeling a great deal of bliss. There's no doubt the news these days is worse than any acid trip in hell, and our moment of spending again needs the brakes put ON with all this talk of double dip recessions. It's scary out there. Fashion to the rescue? I don't know if that's the case, but these dresses from Peter Som's show today sure make me feel that a 2012 Spring filled with colorful dresses may be the answer to that bad trip. I mean- is it me, or do these dresses make you smile? That pink one with the maribou feathers? Come on. That dress instantly makes me want to dance. Yes it wacky and a bit crazy flapper auntie after too much gin, but I love that about it and would be thrilled to rock that, as well as the more simple choices shown here. Regardless of what is happening in the world, there is something about a good dress that just makes me feel good. Call me ridiculous, shallow, or idealistic, I care not. I simply love clothes- always have, always will, and that's that. How can you NOT?
Yea I care about lots of other things and my interests are all over the map, but a consistent theme for me is, and always will be fashion. And that's not negotiable.
To me, fashion is self expression, beauty, individuality, confidence, embracing one's mojo and running with it. It's pop culture, revlatory, creative, part cultural barometer, thermometer, and anthropologist.. It's sexy, fun, and can mark occasions when we remember the way we wore. It suits your every mood. It's putting on a vintage dress that you find in some dusty old thrift store that fits you like a glove and makes you feel like Monroe. Is fashion sometimes ridiculous and shallow and over the top? Why yes, of course it is, and that's what makes it so magically delicious. And so I ask you again, how can you not love it?
Sure I know there's candidates jockeying to rent out the White House for the next term with scary hair and even scarier ideals. Yes Al Gore is telling us we are all going to die, and soon, if we don't pay attention to the environment. And true, the American Dream is a twisted version of what it was, if it even still exists at all. Totally fucking depressing. Watch the shows instead- trust me- we all need a break. And plus, you should probably have something to wear when the shit goes down, just in case...cause that's what's up this fuck it I love fashion kinda Friday in the MIA, though I am very much yearning for the tents in the 212. Looks to me so far the Spring is very very feminine, colorful, and flower filled- Lord knows we need it. XO