Coco Chanel, Karl Lagerfeld, Manolo Blahnik.
Many people like to believe that fashion defines life. The glitz and glamour of this magical world leaves millions in a state of awe, love and aspiration. Legendary figures have supposedly emerged from seemingly simple concepts: Mary Quant the acclaimed inventor of the mini-skirt, John Galliano who revolutionized couture, Balenciaga the brains behind handbags. Undoubtedly, fashion is the epitome of success. Or is that just the magazines talking? Having the privilege to have grown up in a superficial, fashion-indoctrinated, egocentric world, has led us to believe that “fashion is who we are”, that “fashion is our only solution to happiness.” Well, I have a question: when the world undergoes substantial political changes, meteorological abominations, and economic crises – does the solution really lie in… polka dots?
Why is it that designers are regarded as moguls and geniuses? Why is it that girls pay thousands of dollars to be decked out in designer clothes from head to toe to end up looking like Karama regulars? The last time I checked, a visit to Forever 21 with leftover pocket money could end up with me looking like a mirrored image of Natalie Portman at the Golden Globes: totally ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Valentino had some intention for that dress – in the October collection for Halloween! If the brainwashed airheads we continue to surround ourselves with rest their minds of their endless clothing-oriented desires for even a moment, maybe then they would realize the importance of fashion is just about the same as the importance of Lindsay Lohan’s trips to the Betty Ford clinic. Non-existent.
Do we even need fashion? Are clothes really that important? Victoria's Secret sure doesn’t seem to think so! Why does this undying need for clothes within us refuse to wither away, when most modern day runway shows consist of half-naked models running up and down a dressed up and overrated platform? How does society never fail to feed its unswerving strive of keeping up with the latest trends? Underneath all of the labels and our brand named façades, lie what is really important. Of course, mankind will continue to be blinded and led astray by the wrath of fashion, couture, and clothes (or lack of).
Ask the average female teenager what her idea of a good time is and the answer is simple: all expense-paid shopping sprees! What more could a girl ask for, right? Visiting mall after mall, entering shop after shop and devouring all clothes in sight – it all seems so carefree and fun; they’re right. What’s more fun than dragging your blistered feet in skyscraper stilettos around a three-story building, running into every room that gives you another opportunity to cause serious damage to your parents’ bank account? What’s more fun than carrying a buckled Chloe Paddington that weighs more than the entire contents of the bag itself, with agonizing shoulder pains and sweaty palms struggling to hold the plastic handles on the carrier bags?
After personally experiencing such a shopping trip as described, when my sister forced me to accompany her, I realized that I have underestimated the capability of these mall-going girls. Not only can they multitask by holding their overstuffed shopping bags in one hand and their too-small-to-be-dogs-let’s-call-them-accessories in the other, they have actually managed to mindlessly emulate models’ outfits from designer catalogues to perfection.
It is unfortunate, yet safe to say evolution seemed to have reached its peak a very long time ago as we, evidently, are continuing to devolve at a rapid rate with our senses of individuality being the first factors to deteriorate. People no longer desire to possess self-inspired confidence, wearing clothes that reflect their individual personalities. Instead they choose to lie dormant in outfit choosing (the only aspect of fashion that involves brain activity) and prefer to look like walking and talking versions of Donna Karan manikins.
Some say to really appreciate the couture behind fashion, one must fully understand the ingenious behind the designer. I say it doesn’t take a lot of brain to add red soles to seriously overpriced and occasionally tacky shoes, Mr. Louboutin. Frankly speaking, who looks at the bottom of shoes anyway? I know for a fact the only thing interested in the soles of my Shoemart pumps is the chewed up gum on the pavement, finding itself a brand new home. And maybe if I’m lucky, it will be strawberry flavored.





