In my head we’re enemies.
And like most of my enemies, we’re probably not even real enemies.
We’re just enemies in my head.
Firstly, as a style connoisseur, I love to watch people exhibiting their own ideals of style. I like to believe that style for the most part is relative; the trick is you have to know the basic rules and fundamentals and then you’re allowed to break them however you please.
I don’t like when people ‘dress by numbers’. You should not look as if you circled a picture in a catalogue, had it rushed delivered to your living place and wore every one of the pieces at one time.
Style is an art of personality; it’s when who you are meets what you wear. Style is not an opportunity to falsely advertise. If you do not embody the spirit of a mid century vintage croquette, I would abstain from overdoing frills and lace, and what have you. If you’re a naturally shy and reserved person don’t get several tattoos’ sport a biker jacket, cut your hair into a neon colored Mohawk. That, stylistically speaking, is false advertising.
It isn’t particularly difficult to spot stylistic false advertisers. Typically they over sport logos, and when complimented, they tell you what country they bought their piece from as opposed to a store.
“I like your handbag.” I said in regards to a brown leather satchel being toted about by a woman in a relatively generic North Face fleece.
“It’s from South America!” She all too quickly boasted without even a ‘thank you’.
That bit of information is not necessary and unhelpful. South America is a pretty large continent. If I was to visit, I could spend days perhaps months if I’m traveling by foot looking for this one place you purchased a satchel. Did you maybe purchase this bag from a store? If so, perhaps you could enlighten me with a store name. Or a website I could visit to find similar pieces. I’m sure the Gap T-shirt on my back was made in Sri Lanka. I did not, however, go to Sri Lanka to get a basic blue oxford.
I don’t humor those conversations beyond that point. I’ll let her sit the glory of her international purchase.
This particular stenemy (Style enemy? Yeah, I certainly won’t be trying to make fetch happen with that one) was in the cafeteria leaning against a wall adjacent to the hand sanitizing machine I use to prevent myself from contracting incurable diseases that only college cafeterias hold.
He wore a black fedora, a pair of dark colored shades, pocket square folded nicely into his blazer. Pants rolled up, exposed ankles and black loafers. Giant Louis Vouitton belt buckle conspicuously advertised on his waist.
Let me explain:
Do wealthy people run around throwing money in the air? No. Poor people experiencing money for the first time in their lives do that (example: every rapper that had a major hit single in the last decade)
Wealthy people mind their business and make their money.
It is the same with style.
Stylish people do not stand around waiting for the world to compliment them. Stylish people go about being stylish minding their own business. Therefore, move away from the sanitizing machine and remove your sunglasses and your summery fedora. You’re indoors and it’s January. It snowed not even a full 24 hours ago. Put on socks. Right now. You look ridiculous.