Monday, 4 April 2011

How do you do… style

Walking down any street, style, or lack of it screams out like a pair of purposely savaged, aged, patched, studied, bleached and distressed jeans. It informs us on what you’d presume ones brains may or may not contain. The illustrated echoes of past choices, possible hampered eyesight or cards dreadfully dealt. Under the microscope, you can see everything (including that suspicious white stain you tried to wet off).


Oh geez gods that Alexa Chung, she’s stylish. She fucking shits xx albums she’s so f-in hip, she breathes hydrogen, that bitch is Clilit nuclear Japan Bang! No, NO, she’s really-really-really, really dark matter, but with a cheery smile, always with that cheery smile. That, “Yes everyone thinks I’m so idyllic, such a goddess they’ve almost erased that time I was introducing Hollyoaks as if I liked it, like I, Alexia Chung would watch that. Or that time I interviewed Brian from Green and I was soo sarcastic. I’m like the ultimate human, I’m so beyond this pedestrian crap, I wanna live in deep space with the Arctic fucking Monkeys. I’m beyond verbal, I communicate entirely through dress. I break the rules, then I make new rules, cos I’m half Chinese, and I’m in control. You never suspect the sweet ones, and I’m the sweetest, Vogue said so, I made them.”

These style icons are most of the time gauntishly thin people, unattainably symmetrical, who buy tailored clothes that always flatter. 99% of style icons are very rich. Unless you or I hang around the offices, parties, events of the rich and elite you will not be a style icon. You may be a style icon but you won’t be their style icon. Boo the fuck hoo.


Your style depends massively on how you wear something and who you are as a person. As I have found out, just wearing clothes you like in any combination you fancy independent of other elements (occasion, time of day, weather) means that you may be liable to taunts, looks, nods, sniggers and a general sense of hording buffoonery.

Personally I couldn’t tell you what goes with what, I don’t know what to wear a pink shirt with other than some steroids and a Stella. Looking at my own wardrobe I can pick something that may work. More often that not, general apathy means on any given day my girlfriend can walk out with: a clown, a man who’s wearing the clothes of a child, a patterned headache, a Jew, a gay, an old man, a grunge throwback, Rick from The Young Ones, and a stained suspiciously smelling mess.

What’s your style?

Everyone likes something. People who don’t, have body problems or aesthetic appreciation issues. My mum likes flowers, a lot of the time it looks like she’s been assaulted by a meadow but that’s her style, flowers are happy things and she works in a school so she needs happy things.

If you work in say, a formal environment, get into suits, patterns, eras and cuts. If you’re into boom-bang-a-bang Astral Projection go bonkers with surreal characterisations and mad flashy coloured shit. Conversely if you just fuck with people all day and aren’t a customer service advisor, start wearing clothes for the opposite sex or that just don’t fit. Wear clothes for your top on your bottom, fish tie’s can be long socks, and long socks can be bandanas. Wear only one colour then the next day wear every colour in the rainbow, then the next day wear nothing, then the next day wear a prison issue uniform, then next wear a white jacket backwards.


“Your full name sir”

Beebes Dondebeebes!

“Any room in Electroshock?”


I think style is a fine balance between effort and effect. Generally speaking it shouldn’t be too taxing. If you’re touring vintage markets every spare second, raping your rent on eBay and eternally saving for those shoes by that Italian. Calm it. Life’s for living, not posing, don’t care how shocking you think you look, while you’re replaying snaps the rest of us are waxing ecstasy cannons.

Saying that, if your wardrobe consists of whatever’s hanging out of charity shop bins, complimented by moth bitten clothes you’ve been wearing since puberty. You, my friend, need more friends to borrow clothes off.

Gok Wan

Warning. Gok Wan is a personal shopper for fat people. He’s not some revolutionary of style. He doesn’t change how women dress unless it entails making a hundred pound trousers with the addition of a gold strip look like they cost a tenner from Primark. Beware, be scared.

TV offers you tips on style and fashion advice, yet it knows nobody. If your cat sat down, it would advise her on what style of jeans she should be wearing this season if she wants to attract a new sexy mate. Or on the care home community TV they’ll tell your Granddad with Alzheimer's who thinks the walls are rats, that he should be shifting to more neutral tones as he gets older as it compliments his milky grey eyes and pale translucent skin.

I’m surprised they haven’t just fucked off the advice part and just said, “ This winter’s black, everyone wear black, makes you look thinner, you blend in, it’s everywhere, hard to stain, cheap, what more do you bleeding want?”

Make me blind

Jersey Shore. What can I say that you aren’t already thinking about these things. If we lived a few billion years go these muscle-bound over confident super sexed creatures could be useful in aiding our survival. That is until we could civilize ourselves, get jobs, dress well, have relationships, think?

Their style is a collectivized fad magnet, varying only in hue or quantity of stud. Inherently interchangeable with each other without an eye batted. Style is used loosely to describe them due to individual characteristics not always being well, there.

Wearing fifteen layers of varnish, loin cloths and ripped shirts exposing their bits for the leery eyed female things to hump n’ grind along to tribal house rhythms, is their life’s goal. These banaliacs shouldn’t be on camera they should be in museum cages, with interactive electrodes attached to their genitals for hipsters to delight from triggering lavishly. They survive like sheep by their pack mentality and sheer abundance; will their race be wiped out through natural sterilization forcibly administered? One can only try.


Coincidentally fads are used as beacons for the creatures to identify each other and as bloody great warnings for everyone else. For fad makers, it’s basically a creative exercise in who can come up with the stupidest most overpriced ugly tat the general public will buy like it’s going out of fashion.

Previous winners have been Von Dutch or Nazi hats, Ed Hardy or clothing for lazy tattoo enthusiasts, Ugg boots or Jesus Mary and Joseph they’re ugly boots, and anything blatantly oversized like people with massive flappy holed earlobes cos they wore plugs for a few months in 2009 when pop punk was in.

Their lack of practical use combined with most overuse of luminous colours and sheer pointlessness should be taken into consideration. Other commendable mentions include: Crystal encrusted table bag holders, phone charms, see through backpacks, T-shirts with GIANT words in SUPER BOLD shouting absolutely nothing, oh and that Australian diplomatic abomination, Crocs.

Rule of Style: If you think its maybe too awful to be worn, it is.

Tate and Lyle

Style is not what stylist magazine tells you is in or hot. It’s not what everyone else is wearing; it’s just what you feel like you like. A famous person once said. “We are all actors playing characters on this stage called life.” I like that, I changed it, and I can do that. It didn’t say characters but some other quote that I can remember less did so I thought, shove’m both together, make a super quote. William Shakespeare, room for improvement.

Nice ruff.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

All human beings have human feelings.