The fashion world is like a giant broken toilet,
The magnificent Irony as it once was in the ancient world
The magnificent Irony as it once was in the ancient world
full of crap that spins around and around; it looks bright and pastel-y in the spring, more brown and excrement-like in the fall. But seriously, remember the days when what you wore meant something? Remember the french revolution, when wearing pantaloons instead of breeches meant you were more likely to donate your head to the guillotine basket? I certainly don’t. But maybe you remember those days when putting studs on your leather Ramones jacket was the same thing as saying “Fuck you” to anyone who didn’t think “What a badass!” when you walked by? I don’t remember those days either. But the point is, the days when wearing certain styles to evoke a reaction or say something about yourself are over.
- Irony as it exists today, a hideous shadow of its former glory
Irony. That pervasive little culprit. Irony has indeed changed from its high pedestal as a mainstay in classical prose and poetry. A longtime ago, irony meant that we knew Oedipus was making whoopee with his mom, but Oedipus kept right on going, just because it was ironic. That was hard-to-the-core. Props Oed. It’s distressing what passes for irony in the modern era. A kid in a t-shirt representing a band or product or TV show that everyone knows sucks. Drinking poor-quality beer and “ironically” declaring that it tastes good. Pre-1890 facial hair. It seems the meaning of this word has morphed from “a legitimate, tension-creating poetic device” to “anything that is out of place, but the person who put it there knows it’s out of place, so it’s ironic”.
Not as ironic as we'd all hoped
This is irony by today's standards
Total lack of irony
Come to think of it, not everything that’s out of place is ironic. Like a white guy in black guy clothes. Not ironic because of the latter part of the definition “the person who put it there knows it’s out of place”.
I digress. Back to fashion. Nothing we wear means anything anymore. Because of irony, anything goes. Anyone can be “fashionable”, just follow these steps:
- Put a bunch of clothes in a big huge basket (The real first step is “procure a big huge basket”)
- Blindfolded, take four or five gulps of the finest quality bum wine
- Spin around until you throw up
- Throw up (not in your big-huge basket)
- Now you’re ready to make fashion history: Take out random articles of clothing as haphazardly as possible
- Put them on like you usually do
- Find someone to take your picture and/or blog about how cool you are
HAHAHA Awesome (image courtesy of Vice Magazine)
Sure, the first time you “discover” your innate ability to pick out things at random, you’re not going to be very good at it - you will end up looking like this:
So, What do you do? You don’t want to look like someone who attends art school, but you also want to be fashionable. The solution is simple. Only place a certain genre of clothes in your big huge basket. This is the secret that all the major stereotypes utilize to achieve their signature looks.
Certain types will place only tee-shirts, belts and jeans into the basket. Others will take away the jeans, add some high-waisted woolen pants, a few scarves and a bag of costume jewelry. The males among the fashion-conscious may toss some sweatshirts into the mix, making sure the arms are cut off, then stir in some skinny pants and a mustache or two. Some more bold weirdos just throw in swatches of black fabric and a strange hair style, like:
- “Daddy, is this a modern art sculpture?” “No, son it’s jut a weirdo” “Can I touch it?” “No, you have to stay behind the velvet rope”
The “Work Of Art”:
“Bone-dry are the annals of time, figurative are the meals of worms in this prosaic poem I read you now from the bone-dry annals of mind-space - can you fathom that? I will stare at you from my mind-space until you walk away…”
"The time vortex around him radiates awkwardium, which mutates healthy conversation into jabering about hair gel"
"The time vortex around him radiates awkwardium, which mutates healthy conversation into jabering about hair gel"
T’row-Ba’k Dude
“Have you heard of every decade for the past 40 years? I’ve got it all. I got caps of 60s, tabs of ‘68, I got pure columbian ‘76, uncut. I got gels and bottles of ‘83, you know, the good stuff. Dude, this kinda quality is gonna cost you like 80 maybe 90 trips to the thrift store. Dude could you front me some cash, I’ve been gankin’ my own stash. Come on. Here’ have this rock of ‘94. It’s good shit, on the house. You know you want it.”
- “Is she from the space, or art school?”
Space Girl!!!
“Take me to your leader! No seriously, I want to see him right away. I have to administer this serum that will make him under my controls. It’s right here, in one of my compartments on my sleeves. Yes, I’m from space. No, I can’t take you with me. No, you can’t touch my sleeves.
"The order of the Golden Rose,the most powerful Oeuth-Guild of Futurespace"
Time-Traveling Future/Past Assassin
“I have lived many of your earth lifetimes in my travels throughout the continuum. We on Oeuth travel throughout time and space, living amongst the natives until the time is right for assassinship, a craft at which we are quite skilled. The last sound you hear will be a high-pitched squeal as I squeal at you. SQUEEEEEEL!”
"How to deal with a kitten encounter: make lots of noise and puff out your clothes and make yourself look big"
The Fiercest Kitten in the Jungle
Often found in well-manicured trees, the fabled fierce kitten of Williamsburg is indeed a fierce predator. Even wiith an ample coat of American Apparrel, the beast is prepared for any dive-bar climate. Be advised: she considers her PBR her children, and will go to great lengths to protect them.
WTF?
Nu-Nu-Retro-Punk-Core
This is the epitome of ironic fashion. It doesn’t mean anything. It this a boy or a girl? Is he trying to say anything with his “look”? Could it be “I look like a dork, but it’s on purpose, so it’s okay”? He’s taken pieces from every counter-cultural movement and placed them on his body in the most unflattering way possible. Then he stares at you like “what? I can wear what I want”. Yes, you can, but meaning has not been lost, even when worn with a specifically ironic attitude, like our friend Toad here. He has all the bells and whistles of a passionate, counter-cultural icon, but he lacks the passion and the conviction that made them great.
Is that the goal of this new irony - to marginalize the emotions of emotional beings by parodying them unto meaninglessness? And what does that say about the person behind all this ironic, “good-natured” ridicule? Perhaps they believe that all the stuff previous generations thought and felt was meaningless. Yet somehow, in discovering this, wisdom and peace were not found, but instead some kind of emptiness that goes along with representing something and making fun of it at the same time. In the words of Walter Sobchak, “Say what you want about the tenets of national socialism, at least it’s an ethos.”
