22/12/2002 - Entry #48
Okay, so today's subject is Style.
A couple of nights ago I was introduced to a kind of haute couture fashion website, called Viceland. It covers many, many aspects of style, and does so with a much less than politically correct voice. It's a good site, actually, but I don't expect everyone to like it. First and foremost, though, is the fact that it isn't trendy. It's stylish fashion, certainly, but it's setting trends rather than following them. I don't expect you to understand that, because I just made it up, but I do think it's true. Anyway!
Most notable, on the site, are the fashion Dos and Don'ts. Every month they showcase the best and worst outfits they've encountered between issues. The outfits they love, they laud. The outfits they loathe, they rip into with the kind of hate-filled malice I could only dream of. It's good fun for all the family.
Of particular interest to me tonight, are the outfits they love. Now, one thing definitely worth mentioning about Viceland is that it's impossible to understand. I'm fairly sure someone could spend 10 years studying fashion and still completely drop the ball when it comes to the Dos and Don'ts at Viceland. As David St. Hubbins once famously said, "There's a fine line between clever and stupid," and that's definitely true of deep, deep underground fashion. One person can wear what you'd think was a kind of pseudo-clown spoof outfit, but they wear it with such class that it becomes utterly irresistible. It's a world of impossibly subtle touches that I wholeheartedly admit I will never understand.
I'll start with the best:
That's just...I mean...Lordy. Ed and I are both in agreement that she is in fact the sexiest woman to ever walk the face of the Earth. She's sexier than a thousand Christina Aguileras. Sexier than a million of Kylie Minogue's arse. She exudes raw sexuality. Why? Her outfit probably isn't hugely expensive. It's a bloke's shirt, a pair of blue jeans and a hat. Admittedly the hat is fucking fantastic, but it's still just a hat. There's no rational reason for her to look so damn good. But she has such style. She makes an outfit you'd possibly only wear to paint the house in, look like a fashion designer's greatest million dollar work. Just look at her! How much more sheer class can you fit into one photograph? None, is the answer! None more style! If I had a hat, I'd doff it to her. Unless it was as good as hers, in which case I'd just wear it round the house all day thinking "God damn I'm stylish!" I mean, let's face it, both hats AND bloke's shirts have been worn by many others before, and on several occassions have looked nothing but trite. But this queen among women? She brings it back to the concrete streets like it never went away. This woman really is the holy grail of fashion. There's isn't an ounce of cliché on her, and she looks more classy than anyone else in existence. Pray silence. Really.
Like I said, it's not precisely what you wear, so much as how you carry it off. It's a world of subtle hints, and even I don't understand them all. All I know is, she looks brilliant. I think it's almost a certainty that her name is Imogen and her parents are liberals. She probably reads Camus and took a Philosophy degree for a year before dropping out and moving in with her friends. I'm getting all this from the picture, but even if I'm way off, this girl is definitely fantastic. The jeans, I adore. Anyone out there wearing all-plain jeans, get some wear and tear on them! Nobody likes looking like a factory-output mannequin. Her shoes are quite possibly the best shoes I've ever seen on a girl. Call me unfathomably sexist, but I bet she buys a shitload of shoes, and yet wakes up every morning and looks out upon her ocean of footwear and thinks "Why on Earth do I need any other pair than these?!" Such is the greatness of those shoes. The jacket sets it all off admirably, too. It's utterly nondescript, but it catches the eye more than her flamboyant scarf dealy does. Why? Because she has style. It's this bizarre unseen quantity that can't be measured, only witnessed. The stance of the feet suggests she walks around feeling insecure and shy, all the while in one of the best outfits imagineable to humankind. I say again, this girl is fantastic. Far too much class to ever be insecure.
But it's not all the girls. Oh no. The guys are looking pretty damn sharp too. Now, fair dos, this guy has the build to pull off a slouch and t-shirt. When I try that, I look like a Cambridge undergraduate. But even without that, you can tell the guy has some style. Notice the worn jeans. Notice the plain t-shirt. Notice the complete lack of styling to his hair. Notice the rusted penny-farthing contraption he's sitting on. Is there any single component of this picture that screams style at you? Of course not. But how anyone can look at it all and not wish they were as cool as fucking fuck like this guy is, I do not know. He's gone and got lunch, he's on his way home, and he's looking like a fucking superstar. This is the kind of style we should all be striving for. I feel I need to give this a name, by now. You've got your Sports Casual, you've got your Retro Chic. This is clearly none of that. This is, what, Stylish Independent, is what it is. These guys are taking great pride in what they wear, but they're becoming an entire antithesis of popular fashion while they do it. How fucking commendable is that? Everybody's clothes should say something, I always say. But they should say it with class and with subtlety. Your clothes are valuable advertising space, and it seems a shame to waste it with a Metallica t-shirt.
Even this guy. Utterly faceless clothing, but he pulls it off like it's a second skin. There's nothing remarkable about any aspect of this fella, but you can't fault his outfit. It works for him, and that's what it's all about. He's got the whole rich-kid look, but with something a little extra, that you can't quite put your finger on. He looks like he's got the money from his parents to experiment with ridiculous things. He's bungee jumped on acid, and rode a horse naked in Thailand, just to see what it was like. I have boundless hatred for people who want to experience as much as possible, but he's trying, god bless him, and I like that. Quite possibly he's a male version of Imogen.
If Matt Damon were a girl, this is precisely what he'd look like on his days off. The red shirt with the blue denim. Does it clash or does it accentuate everything? I don't know! Who cares, she's wearing a flat cap! This is an outfit that confuses and bemuses me, but looks so alarmingly good I can't help but smile while I shake my head in wonder! Go, Matt Damon girl, go!
Now, get over the fact that this guy's friends probably call him Ziggy, and you'll see a pretty classy outfit. Looking at the individual parts you could be forgiven for thinking it was a mistake, but it's more than the sum of its parts, and the whole thing just works. There's no denying it. This is probably the closest any of them come to pretentious art wank, but I wholeheartedly believe it avoids that pitfall. It's still just Stylish Independent, only with the focus much more heavily on the independence. It's still a highly classy outfit, and still neatly steers clear of all the stereotypes.
I'm telling you, when I'm running my own disutilitopia, it will be the LAW to wear these outfits in public. Everyone will be forced to endure strenuous style induction courses to teach them the enormous benefits of original clothing, and I'll create the world's first literal Fashion Police, who'll parade the streets in the funkiest fucking clothes you'll ever lay eyes upon, reprimanding all those others who didn't quite get it right. "Fair play for trying," they'll say, "but you're lacking the all-important style. You've got to take some pride in the whole outfit, and care about the quality of it all. It's a marriage of the two principles, my friend." And then they'll be gone, disappearing into the busy mean streets, without a word of thanks. It's a dream, my friends, and one day it'll be a reality. Oh yes it will.
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