Tacky by Nature

High fashion, I guess

It’s always a bit shocking to me that there are people out there who care about fashion.  I don’t mean wanting to look nice and not strangely dated – I understand that.  I mean the people who really care: the people who know designers by name and what stylistic quirks said designers are known for, who know what this season’s colours are and will buy those colours for that reason alone, who can’t wait for the next Vogue magazine to come out, who watch that fashion channel on TV, who then discuss it – those people.

I’m not trying to trivialize other people’s interests.  If fashion’s your thing, that’s nice.  I just don’t get it, in the same way I don’t get people who are into sports, I guess.  My own interest in fashion is limited to what is necessary to blend in and look presentable.  I think I mostly succeed.

Ooh! Shiny AND red! My favourite colour!

There’s another side of me though, a side that I do not let out of doors with my wallet, fortunately, as I’m sure I’d be both ridiculed and broke.  That side is attracted to anything sparkly or shiny or soft, like some kind of nesting bird.  It likes sequins and velvet and ruffles and hats and animal prints and gigantic jewelry and lace and fluffy things and feathers and towering shoes that would take two seconds to get me sprawled on the floor if I were to actually try them on.  Ideally, it likes these things all at the same time.  This side is attracted to thigh-high boots and fancy capes, and it would consider a career in masked crime-fighting to be able to wear them.

Basically, my other side is super-tacky.

What it makes me wonder though, is whether this is the case with everyone.  By the time people reach adulthood, I think they’ve usually defined some sort of style for themselves that more or less works for them and that’s what they shop around for.

But is everyone out there really wanting to buy the sequins deep down?  (Presumably some people actually do buy the sequins, as they continue to be available, but I’m more interested in the ones who don’t but want to.)

A flamingo died for her to wear this boa.

What if nobody dresses the way they actually want to dress because they are worried that they’ll look silly/be laughed at/be considered unemployable/whatever?  But if everyone wants to, maybe we should.  Maybe humans – by nature – are just tacky.  Maybe “taste” is a pretty thin veneer separating us from fashion anarchy and we should just do away with it.

Or maybe that’s just me.  In which case, forget you ever read this.