Category Archives: Fashion

I could give a fuck about the brand of the shoes your no style having self is wearing

(How the current legal framework of IP protection perpetuates the perception of fashion as a vapid status conscious elitist hierarchy)

A working title and subtitle for the note that I will never write, because why would I close the door to such a vast field of future employment opportunities?

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can’t sell me bullshit; we know the prices

So I’m not sure what I was expecting when I queued up for the J. Crew sample sale today – what the hell was I doing at a J. Crew sample sale period? [need for sweaters, lured by the promise of cashmere for cheap] But let me tell you, the scene was wholly unsavory. Racks of nubbing cashmere sweaters. Inventory so picked over that I thought I was digging through Salvation Army. No hyperbole. Shoes tied with rubber bands. Even with discounts being only modest, shoppers were walking away with garbage bags worth of said items. Two things that are evident at a sample sale: you can get away with a lot if you slap a “sample sale” at the end; merchandising is money.

All of a sudden bargain shopping is the new thing. But it’s not as smart as people like to make it seem since there is an inevitable sample sale google effect. I am not exempt from the occasional shopper’s fervor caused by a blind zeal for particular brands. Oh, a pair of Herchicovitch pants two sizes too large that looks more awkward than hot, a clunky and utterly unremarkable bag purchase on account of it being Chloe and a bunch of utterly regrettable purchases come to mind. But my god, I love laughing at women snatching up nubby sweaters when you can get better and newer versions for the same price.

HYPOTHERMIA

I am all for a little suffering with beauty but it’s only in the insulated world of “fashion” that the above looks could be deemed as suitable for the cold – that is, New York cold. This tagline and accompanying photos are symptomatic of the industry’s general perception of fall/winter – a dash of fur signals winter. As if something that merely evokes the theoretical concept of winter and its cold weather also translates into sufficient shield against it.

I mean, really, where are you going, Kate Moss?

photo credit: whowhatwear

It is when I chance upon such “creations” (priced at $1,165), that I fear I may lack the requisite empathy to exist beyond my current station in life, because there is no perspective from which I can even deem to justify the existence of “bag”. I cannot empathize with the creator, the buyer, nor the medium which carries it. It is for this reason that I do not think I’m sufficiently qualified to be a lawyer in this area – I lack the objectivity to be a sufficient advocate.

A “reknowned” American artist currently has an exhibit at a not obscure New York gallery featuring exactly the type of tacky appropriation everyone imagines when they think of “counterfeiting”. Yet, he’s getting press, because 1) people did not “know” what they were knocking off 2) the word “counterfeit” was never mentioned. The two justifications clearly counteract each other as: no reason to think what they were doing was wrong if they had no idea they were knocking off something.

This comes a week after NYPD arrested a man who sold designer goods in papier mache for “copyright infringement”.

Isn’t it convenient? This could turn into a thesis on the cultural bias of copyright, non?

keep bootleggin…

The design protection bill is faulty for many many reasons and more symbolic than anything else. Just based on the column, there are several issues aside from the obvious resistance from layman who doesn’t understand the concept of intellectual property right.

1.  if the standard of the law is substantially identical rather than substantially similar, most if not all of the McQueen dresses are only protected in theory as their designs are truly unique. They would not be protected in reality since any lucrative copies would do away with a lot of detailing and would therefore not be substantially identical. It’s a shame, because his is one of the few instances where a creation would be knocked off for a truly unique piece rather than  an exploitation of the name attached or the fame of the piece (which are lucrative because they’re easier pieces to knock off and more accessible anyway). Primary example is the featured dress of the article. When are we going to stop fronting about its being McQueen and just admit it’s a Badgley Mischka masquerading under another name? On the flip side, many of McQueen’s creations doesn’t even need protection, because they’re just not accessible (aside from those lobster claw jawns that inexplicably got knocked off.

No matter how viable it is in terms of profit recovery or any sort of commercial protection (rather than the abstract idea of property, which doesn’t provide any sort of measurable benefit/gain), for the sake of justice, I guess, symbolically, there should be some protection, just not for the kind that will end up being protected by the bill. Money is power, eh?

A rant

I hate it when…

Someone tries to approach me/befriend me based on a supposed common interest when it’s really just based on my interest. Or maybe, I’m dismissive of other people having that interest if they don’t know as much or just suck at having the interest.

Ok, more specifically, I guess I’m speaking of fashion, which is most common.

I’m really not a snob about fashion. I have friends who don’t care about fashion and just wear what they think look good on them and while I don’t always agree, I’m also not friends with them because I can talk about Helmut Lang with them for hours at a time. It’s really not that serious. You don’t have to like fashion or even care, shit, most of the time, I don’t care. When you don’t know jack shit about it and want to talk to me about it, though, for the sake of talking, it doesn’t flatter me that you’re trying to talk to me, I’m annoyed and that’s when I’d judge you and that judgment is excessively judgey. Like, when you say you like Anna Sui and think that that’s a jumping off point for us to conversate, you don’t care or know whatever you’re saying. Be yourself, like what you like, yo.

There’s this broad at school who approached me because she saw that I’m into clothes/shopping, so she figured we’d get along. I mean, fair, but she likes shopping the way all women like shopping. It’s mostly mindless, sequined/pretty shit that’s uninformed and has no perspective. Not that I’m super pared down or edited, but a general interest in clothing doesn’t do a damn thing for me in terms of a camaraderie. Don’t ask me to go shopping for a cocktail dress, I will be bored to death looking at frilly and pointless embellishments and will hate you forever and ever. We don’t have a common interest in that. If you don’t have anything else to say, you might wonder if you have anything else to offer or if you think that’s all there is to me, then should you really want to know me? It is ok, dawg. Trust me, fashion is not known to forge strong friendships. This is why I couldn’t even deal with the fashion club (YEAH I KNOW IMAGINE?). Mindless consumption and not having taste. I just can’t. I mean, it’s like someone approaching a music snob and saying, I love music, don’t you just love that song about the G6? I mean, really. Get out of my face.

Like Louboutin’s with the red bottoms; You gotta have ’em, you glad you got ’em

I can set aside my personal grievances against bland women with no taste who step in the name of fashion and style simply based on the possession of a pair of Louboutins.  I can’t offer up any legitimate legal perspective on the lawsuit, but seriously YSL? Why? Again, I blame the machinery of fashion marketing/commercialism for confusticating style with designer “shoes and bags” – what is supposed to finish off an outfit, but thanks to trademarks and marketing have become the ultimate maker of outfits – as a consequence, making them the most lucrative sector of a brand’s sales. Why else would YSL paint the bottom of their shoes red? The shoes named are all reissued season after season and don’t reflect the brand’s seasonal designs/vision. They target same troupe of mindless women who worship at the alter of a boring stiletto with a red bottom. So why further mock the consumer by adding the same red bottom? Oh, wait. a. minute.

Nah, I think it’s really because the blue and yellow bottoms that YSLs sometimes have just don’t go with a red shoe, but still.

Moschino hoe, Versace hottie

I’ve spoken on the international calamity that is fashion blogging worldwide before, but today, it was only a few moments ago, I’ve realized why in such succinct terms. Bloggers have singlehandedly eviscerated that essential element of fashion: fantasy. I’m not talking about the aspirational aspect of fashion fandom (or the pursuit of any lifestyle above our own). Beyond that is a realm to which I’ve previously relegated fairy tales, Alexander McQueen and the one off type situations Hussein Chalayan sometimes show that should really be on a runway. Then, it began with Lady Gaga and Daphne Guinness and trickled down, in perfect copycat fashion, to 19-25 year old twigs all over the world. The consequent commercial reponse to all these deplorable, tasteless, amateur interpretation of design is inevitably an object that just leaps over ugly and lands on the side of, what the fuckery, i have no wordsry:

First things first, I eat your brain

I love me some Nicki Minaj, but there is absolutely nothing like building up to be let down.

So, there I was, sitting in Civ Pro and on my phone like the studious Asian that I am, when suddenly, a blinking red light alerted me to a new facebook message from a guy I hadn’t heard from since I was in diapers (high school). Subject: Bestbuy tickets. Ugh, great, more spam. Only to discover, he was transfering some tickets that turned out to be less valuable than he made them out to be. Either way, I was grateful, because my Thursday night had promises of seeing The Roots and the black Dolly Parton (please, next reinvention can’t come soon enough, Nicki). Juxtaposition for the win.

So there I am, after a week of stringent legal academia, in an old purple Prada bustier and a hot pink skirt rolled up to a hem that’s somewhere between indecency and age-appropriate, which is to say, almost slutty if I weren’t such a classy bitch by default, when out walks Nicki Minaj with her frankenstein hair and my gym clothes.

What the fuck.

She had $5 for costume and the best she could do with it was body glitter.

I kid you not, this broad performed in a cropped black hoodie and sweatpants that are only appropriate for a Sunday at home with rollers in her hair. Girl, what kind of blatanat disrespect are you projecting to fans who are supposed to look to you for inspiration and as a role model?

Also, Black Thought is puffy as a mofucka and The Roots played “You got me” which got me more putty than silly. I’m still a G though, respect.