Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Playing Grown Up

Playing Fashion, Winter 2010

When I was 13, I started collecting editorials. I started playing attention to fashion and it was so exciting, so powerful during that time in my life. I covered my walls with clippings. I read Ginsberg and Thus Spoke Zarathustra and dressed in black. I met a bunch of older teens/college students who taught me about Wire and MBV and about what it was to be a music collector. I got good grades. I was a good kid.

After I moved out at 17, I was super inspired by girlie looks that were really sixties, floral and French. I thrifted a lot. I bought tons of "outfits." I bought a lot of insanely expensive records. I spent a lot of money frivolously and consumed things that I thought would make me happy for that brief moment in my life. And man, was I a flirt. At the time, that was who I was and what I was like. I convinced myself that money didn't rule me, things didn't rule me and my image to people mattered. I don't dislike this me. I was a pretty liberated little lady and I think I dressed for fun. But, I made a lot of mistakes.

Now that I'm older, most editorials bore me. I've become a cynical and hardened critic. I do, though, try to listen to other people's advice even when they don't think I do and have become way more fucking Zen or at least try to be (hope to be). I carry a sewing kit and Shout wipes. I bought shoe trees. I listen to more talk radio. I walk slower. I've always been lactose intolerant. Always. You start to look at some of the things you did as a young adult, thought, bought and decided. You step back and think "wtf was I thinking?!! I was such a smart kid." 

Maybe getting a little older makes you boring, maybe it makes you out of touch with how most people are thinking, feeling, liking for that brief moment in their young adult life, but I'm liking this older me for being a bit more cautious.

I'm not sure if other girls like the stuff I post on fashion or if they even like any of the music stuff or get it. I don't even know where I'm going with all this. But, blogging for some reason makes me happy. Writing something makes me happy. I think that's all that matters in the end.


1 comment:

  1. Isn't that the usual plight of all (correction: some) BLAHggers and in fact all artists- whether or not anyone gets it or appreciates it?

    It can be torturous, especially for us thinking folks. However, at least you're driven by what makes you happy instead of by how many blaggher underlings you have.

    If it's any consolation, I think what you put out is great and I READ/observe it on a regular basis.