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threeplusfire) wrote2003-09-19 02:59 am
threeplusfire) wrote2003-09-19 02:59 am
(no subject)
It's good to see the Kate Moss trend alive and well. I was flipping through photos from fashion week in New York on the wires, and it struck me how creepily skinny so many of the models appeared. Every now and then one who looked almost normal would pop out. It's a weird thing, because there were lots of lovely clothes but the people bother me. Coture and designer fashion is such an odd art form.
I have a hard time finding a lot of models attractive in anything other than an abstract way. Mostly because the idea of a six foot tall praying mantis person is not a sexy image. Not only that, but they are blank canvases. They exhibit no personality, they seem to exist as vehicles for the clothes. On one hand, you know, that's interesting, and on the other it is so boring because it's been done over and over. Too bad there's no one doing anything subversive and weird with models. Runway show of the newest creepy plastic surgery techniques and modifications maybe? Give them all tails I say.
It has less to do with my own self image than any psych would tell you. I bear no malice or hidden loathing of the tall skinny people. My only jealousy stems from the fact that they must have an easier time of finding comfortable jeans than I do, but that's really more of an issue with stores that only stock approximately five sizes. I bear more malice towards marketers and pitchfolk who create magazine spreads and commercials that carry the message that being a certain way, using a certain product, having a certain look will make one happy.
But enough about the race of praying mantis people who will surely take over the world in their Prada heels. We went to Dennys after work, saw drunk women talking on an ancient cell phone, a waiter get fired for arguing with a customer about something or other, a strange man who ignored his girlfriend but talked to us, and various other weird bits of the post bar hour in a twenty four seven diner. Ate greasy, greasy fried food. It's alright.
I want a chocolate shake now, I'm feeling so American.
I have a hard time finding a lot of models attractive in anything other than an abstract way. Mostly because the idea of a six foot tall praying mantis person is not a sexy image. Not only that, but they are blank canvases. They exhibit no personality, they seem to exist as vehicles for the clothes. On one hand, you know, that's interesting, and on the other it is so boring because it's been done over and over. Too bad there's no one doing anything subversive and weird with models. Runway show of the newest creepy plastic surgery techniques and modifications maybe? Give them all tails I say.
It has less to do with my own self image than any psych would tell you. I bear no malice or hidden loathing of the tall skinny people. My only jealousy stems from the fact that they must have an easier time of finding comfortable jeans than I do, but that's really more of an issue with stores that only stock approximately five sizes. I bear more malice towards marketers and pitchfolk who create magazine spreads and commercials that carry the message that being a certain way, using a certain product, having a certain look will make one happy.
But enough about the race of praying mantis people who will surely take over the world in their Prada heels. We went to Dennys after work, saw drunk women talking on an ancient cell phone, a waiter get fired for arguing with a customer about something or other, a strange man who ignored his girlfriend but talked to us, and various other weird bits of the post bar hour in a twenty four seven diner. Ate greasy, greasy fried food. It's alright.
I want a chocolate shake now, I'm feeling so American.
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