In Defense of Fashion

So here I am, munching on my nectarine,
Flipping through the pages of Nylon magazine.

That rhymed, but this isn't a poem.
Bitch please, I didn't even have a single cup of coffee today.
(Post publishing edit: I did later.)

Today I'm thinking about fashion, makeup, & the careers and businesses surrounding them. This female-dominated realm is something in which I ricochet back and forth, as far as whether I take it seriously or not. Whether I like it or not. Whether it's worth my time or not.

And deciding whether you like something or not is very important, I think. Never definitive and final, but always very important.

I decided a long time ago that I do not like expectation. And unfortunately, I think life for a lot of people is built around expectation. There's a comfort to it and a need for it. But expecting I'll graduate from college, get a job, settle down, have 2.5 kids and a pension plan is necessary but not very interesting, no. I'll be happy to have all those things (and views can always change) but I'm not fired up about it. Not now at least. Not at all.

I also decided a long time ago that I love art. I love creating it and admiring it. And I know what kind of art I like. More Warhol than Whistler. More Gorey than Gauguin. And more Louboutin than Leonardo. I prefer art without the expectation of enjoying it in a museum where you're supposed to enjoy art. I like flipping through the pages of a magazine and finding art. I like walking down the street and finding art. I like rolling out of bed in the morning, smearing on my makeup while my eyes are still blurry from sleeping with my contacts in, and then realizing I did a pretty artistic job blending my eyeshadow regardless.

I like constantly reinventing myself with art. Fashion and makeup allow me to do that.

That's about it. Really.

So many people view the world of fashion, design and couture as superficial, vapid and useless. I often thought that way too, because in the great scheme of things, what I wear today doesn't mean a damn thing and doesn't make a bit of difference to anyone 100 years from now, 10 years, 1 year, tomorrow.

But I'm not hanging around 100 years from now, I'm hanging around right here, and if a boucle sweater and leggings make me feel sexy and happy right now, then sweet muffins!

So billions of women and gay men, if I may embrace some stereotypes, read Vogue, Vanity Fair, and other fashion magazines, or watch Top Model and Project Runway, inhaling fashion advice and goggling at images with anticipation, fascination, and devotion that others may compare to following politics, music, or sports.

I like some of them. I like the flamboyant Sanjaya look-alike that just got kicked off the designer reality show because he threw a hissy fit about his model being too skinny to fill out into his masterpiece fringed poncho. Dude, I'd be upset too. That fringe took like two days.

I do not like the ET correspondents who flock to the red carpet begging to know who Blake Lively is wearing. Brands are dumb. I also hate when celebrities tell fashion reporters they're wearing some obscure designer's name and get impressed responses as if they just figured out a really difficult math equation.

I think fashion is art when I like what I'm seeing. Durr. Asymmetrical shapes and offbeat colors are fashionable to me because they're interesting to look at. I don't care if bubble skirts are a great trend for the Fall, but I do care that my new skirt makes my butt look like a bubble, which is intriguing.







Maybe I just like flipping through Vogue for the voyeuristic deliciousness of their beauty, colors, and good hygiene, and that tiny hope that those "Get this look!" tips could bring me just a little closer to such a beautiful, bizarro world.

The point is, I think I get fashion as an art form. Not so much the business with whoever decides what's "in" and what's "out" and whoever thought Crocs were a good idea. But the fact that everyone wakes up in the morning (except for people who die in their sleep) and gets dressed. I see the innovative potential in fashion and cosmetics to transform this necessary task into a daily creative adventure to evoke a mood, make a statement, or generate conversation. Not with a $5000 Gareth Pughs coat of polyurethane balloons (above), but you know. That potential tastes good.

This has been Trina Tulloch, in another edition of "Desperate Attempts to Justify Herself with Seemingly Analytic Rambling." Good night, America.