Just screw it. The thrill is gone. I used to love it so. Like the day that Matt called me a "postmodern canary," which was mildly insulting on its face, but meant with affection.
What I can't take is this postmodern couture. Or, as the NYT calls it:
bobo style.
We do not need to be giving
David Brooks more attention. BoBos in Paradise is a hateful book full of narcissistic navel-gazing. Maybe 60s activism was only a smokescreen masking the quest to overthrow and supplant the upper class for you David Brooks. You and
Rick Hayne.
I completely agree with the article's conclusion that bobo style is a way to repackage designer fashion so it becomes more "inconspicuous consumption" than "conspicuous consumption." But that moral is offset by the insane levels of designer butt kissing. Why can't people talk about fashion without dropping names all over the place? Are we really so insecure?
Personally, I feel the same way about Donatella Versace as I do about the Sephora ladies. I have eyes. I see how she dresses herself. Why on earth would I let her anywhere near my closet?
"The Olsens are the real thing," fashion role models for a generation entering adulthood, said Karen Berenson, a stylist who works in New York and Los Angeles. She is unfazed by Mary-Kate Olsen's widely publicized admission last year to a clinic to treat an eating disorder and her continuing recovery. "She makes skinny girls in baggy clothes look cool," Ms. Berenson said.
It'll be a cold, cold day in hell before I accept Mary-Kate and Ashley as my personal, sartorial saviors. Also? Berenson's strangely juxtaposed quote leads me to believe that she thinks anorexia is dandy as long as the skinny girl in question makes baggy clothes look cool.