After 30 years of rocking, Lemmy may not be beautiful, but he's not foolish enough to throw out his hat just because you've seen it.
As Fashion Tribes is hosting an ongoing Fashion Week blogtacular, I wanted to post a little something re: notions fashionable so you'd know I'll be on the case.
Especially as I live in Manhattan, I am intending to dabble in occasional, on-site fashion blogging during FW. However, as I'm unconnected and uninformed, I may have to satisfy myself with showing up to count the empty pizza boxes out back (you know you're curious) and asking security personnel and passersby if they consider my trousers Art.
But I can't commit to everyday, intensive focus, because dabbling is one of the joys of the bon vivant. The harum-scarum application of my superior taste is a far more delightful exercise than the sweat-coursed pretzel twisting so popular lately. Don't get me wrong. I like deep breathing, but only when luscious aromas merit. Today, I filled my quota through gasps of joy.
Only a few newpapers really leaned forward into the online winds, but the WSJ did and continues enhancing itself as a multimedia infentity. (That's the new word I made up for "informational entity". Don't Bogart my genius without attribution.) Today, only expanding my admiration, the WSJ free highlight is this Jim Fusili article on Death Metal! To recognize beloved names like Pantera, Sepultura, and Lemmy Kilmister of Motorhead while reading about the techniques of Cookie Monster singing in the Wall Street Journal is an ethereal trip to paradise. Catch it!
I've drawn fashion lessons about cuteness from Funny Face for a previous carnival, but today, in examining the State of the Fashion Union, my lesson must be inspired by the artistes of metal.
What's so wrong with wearing something fabulous more than once? From Kiss's regalia, to David Lee's chaps, to Rob Halford's complete suite from International Male, we loved learning to appreciate and anticipate the look. It was not boring; it was delectable. Certainly, an exquisite couture garment has exceptional craftsmanship and detail that deserve to be savored and enjoyed. I'd adore seeing an eminent person of style wearing the same glorious apparel with different accessories or amplifying a different facet of the design. The best designs aren't any more one-dimensional than a great sculpture. There's room (and to me, a demand) for mutiple interpretations within the rich visual vocabulary they posess.
We hear the complaints about "losing" the traditional artisans of beaders, hatters, and glovemakers, but how can they survive when their triumphs of lasting excellence are treated like disposable fashions of plastic thread? Why should something made impeccably be worn once and shunned rather than celebrated in subsequent appearances and seasons? How can you expect to demonstrate the difference between RTW and haute that way? By refreshing contrast, your basic metalheads and rockers will have their perfect leather boots resoled ten times, and enjoy them every time they're worn. There is a relationship to and transformation of a person by exceptional garments. I'd like those lucky wearers who set fashion's course these days to cultivate signature style over whiplash variety, and to remember to revisit the oases of greatness in the current, vast desert of carelessness.
P.S. My pal BelleNoelle's not only blogging, she's added hearts aplenty for Valentine's Day along with her sophisticated, one-of-a-kind florals.