I was hoping to write another work of Literary Genius tonight (the last work of this sort was "Vineland", a couple of posts back. Julie Anne, fire of my loins, realizes this, however I'm not sure if some of you others did.) But I was having an assistant read the comments on my last post to me, as I sipped my diet Coke (my sin, my soul) , I heard this:
"you think balmain is demode?? You've working for them, so i don't understand that. besides, the collection, especially the denims and the jackets is on the street. and u know, a fashion which never came to the street is not mode."
I had my assistant, Fiagro- Fi-ag-ro: the tip of my cold-as-an-icecream-scooper-of-a-tongue walking elegantly down the secret Chanel HQ corridor. Fi. Ag. Ro. I had him read out the comment again. I sipped my diet Coke (my sin, my soul).
I sighed. Yes; a little part of Uncle Karl died. The gatekeeper down in Hades rejected it, saying I was already dead. Too bad. You could sell it for plenty. I wondered what sort of drugs this girl was taking. I wondered if she was my ex wife. I realized I've never had an ex wife. I went to the shrink and decapitated him. You can always count on a designer for a fancy prose style.
I have not worked for Balmain for a century! I started there as a boy- barely a fetus. It's like your first job at McDonald's, hmm? Sure- you need the money, but you're not going to love McDonald's forever. Actually, I'd better adjust that for readers of this blog: it's like your first job "interning" (that is, not getting paid and used as slave labour. Ha!) for some fashion label. Of course, I'm a bit more high class than McDonald's, so I started at Balmain. This does not change the fact that Balmain is now designed by a hobo who is insulting both the Beatles and Frank Zappa at the same time! That's quite a skill, but one not very useful in fashion; unless your last name is "Kawakubo."
So, I am not going to love my fashion equivalent of McDonald's. Non non non.
As for Balmain itself- who cares if it's on the street? I think the only person I have seen wearing it on the street is Michael Jackson. Is Michael Jackson your target market? Is every person on the street Michael Jackson now, hmm? In any case- there's plenty of things on the street that aren't very mode. Baggy pants? Printed hoodies? Fatties? Please. We need to chuck them in a rubbish bin. Fashion is not a translation of the street, nor is the street a translation of fashion.
I walked down the street other day and I did not see a soul wearing a band jacket. It's evident that the band has packed up, and only the demode are left wandering aimlessly around with only the ghosts of brass-music playing.
I'm just overwhelmed by the stupidity it takes to create a comment like that. Who knew bashing one's head on a keyboard could be an artform? I shake your coldly by the hand, stupid girl! Of course, one is entitled to one's own opinions about Fashion; as is anybody else. If one likes reading trashy romance novels typed by a team of 100 all-American dropouts on a production line in Brazil, that's your imperative. If one likes to place a burger in their hand, a greasy burger made out of decomposed rubber bands and oil (because that's what burgers are made of), that's your imperative. If one likes to dress like a former-band-geek slash prostitute who spends all day listening to "Thriller" and reliving their prom, whilst making lov- actually, it doesn't even deserve to be called love. Whilst fucking any random boy you meet at seedy nightclubs whilst your Balmain jacket slips off, that is your imperative.
And if you wish to call Balmain "intellectual", again, that is your choice. Oh ho ho, you kids and your opinions. When I was your age I was painting pictures of myself when I was 70! Now that I am 70, I just need to take photos. I'm sick of this word "intellectual" being bandied about like it's a free blowjob. "Intellectual" used to be a journali- a hack's way of describing a collection they could not understand. "This collection by Rei Kawakubo is so intellectual", "The intellectual stylings of Martin Margiela shone once again, because I can't be bothered to understand why he blew up Barbie-doll-clothes whilst keeping the original proportions; it's not like anybody reads these reviews anyway. And oh look! I just used a semi-colon! I went to university, you see. Anyway yada yada intellectual yada yada poetry yada yada difficult can I have a smoke now?"
Now this horrible, horrible, despicable word has grown like some sort of mold into the lexicon of fashion bloggers. Take it out and start using your brains. Only the other day, I was walking down the street (not the same street with Mr. Jackson on it), and I saw two girls squeezed into leggings which made them appear like balloons from a party for the childrens. They used the word "intellectual" every 5 seconds. Please. Please. Please. Rei very may well me an "intellectual" but her collections certainly are not: they are clothes. They do not tend to get up and start teaching at say, Cornell, and start asking for toast compulsively. Her clothes may have very intelligent ideas, although personally, I do not have four arms. They deserve more words to discuss them at all. "Intellectual" is a lazy word.
Golly goose! That was a lot to dictate! I've been thinking of buying a typewriter soon. As you can see, I keep up with the times. It will be a silver typewriter, with quilted keys. Somebody ought to write a novel about it.