I have a strange relationship with fashion trends. I'm sure I can talk enough fashion (and, on that note, cosmetics) to last an unnaturally-long lifetime, but I'm never sure if what I'm following is simply trendy fashion, or style. As I observe the sea of messy buns, loose knit sweaters, and cuffed boyfriend jeans descend upon campus, I can't help but wonder if I'm simply a victim of trendiness, or something better. To that end, is it even that much better to go against the grain? (I may say this because I'm in love with loose knit sweaters and all the food babies they afford me)
Also. Do I even care that much? I've been partially blind when it comes to picking things out of my closet. Plus, my penchant for avoiding the gym has been determining my fashion choices as of late.
Coco Chanel once said this: "Fashion fades, only style remains the same."
Thanks Coco, but how am I supposed to figure out what defines style when I'm sitting in the monoculture of this university campus?
Here's an evening read - Fiona Duncan's article in Bullett, titled How to Write About Dressing Well: The Truth About Fashion Criticism. I wish I knew how to be as extensive and elaborate with my interviews and my writing.
The past two weeks have been a flurry of everything Journal-centric. My sixth article for Postscript is in the works but, in the meantime, read last issue's piece titled Books breed wonder.
It's a profile of Kingston's Wayfarer Books, a bookstore haunt known to us who, you know, like to haunt used bookstores. Take a look and see if you can catch any sign of my love for what some call a dying industry. I'm still not sure if it's a doomed romance or not. How tragic if it will be.
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