You know what?

I post shit like the post below and then realize that what it's really about is giving a fuck about what you look like. I thought for a long time that people who said they didn't care what they looked like were full of shit, but I realized that's wrong. It's just hard to realize that it's not important to some when you've been embedded in the fashion industry in this damn city for too long.

As far as fashion and fantasy go, price points aren't the point, it's style. But true style can't be purchased and I think that's what really got my goat when I worked at Barneys. People would purchase pre-determinded head-to-toe looks. They'd wear whatever we told them to wear, and if it wasn't us telling them it was the runway or a photoshoot or our catalogue. Meeting the reps from each line and seeing them wearing a full look from their bosses line made me admire their professionalism but balk at how boring it must be for them to get dressed for work. Then again, when I managed The Good, The Bad & The Ugly I wore Judi's clothes daily and never minded, though I did overconsume at the shop (do I really need three snap-front denim skirts or five pairs of the spring denim? or two pairs of each style of short?) because they fit me like a dream. Still, stepping out in, say, a bustier, a pair of shorts, and pollys all designed by one person made me feel like an uncreative douchebag, completely reliant on someone else's vision of what style should be. Even if that vision is reasonably genius like Judi Rosen's, it still felt wrong. I just gotta be me, I guess.

But maybe that's problematic. I've learned to represent myself via my outfits. In a city where visual stimulation is constant, it's hard to stand out. Being single for years definitely made it necessary to do so, half of dressing for me was for men, the other half for women whose style and opinions I respected. It was slightly competitive for a period but that lessened as I got older and more confident. Everyone I knew came into her own around the same time and it was a graceful transition from peacocks to swans, equally lovely but the latter far more refined.

Or maybe I am just becoming an old fart. Now I dress up when I see my boyfriend and look like a wall flower when he's not around. Funny, but I get a different type of attention from men than I did before, probably because I don't give a fuck, but possibly because I'm not putting myself on display. A girl in jeans and a tshirt (though it's tight jeans and a cool tshirt, I'll never be a total shlub) is far more approachable than one in a mini dress. I see no reason to go out looking like a total babe without him. I settle for a comfortable sorta-babe status. Call me old fashioned but I'm a one man gal, and I don't welcome come-ons because rejecting dudes takes effort and is frankly kind of a drag. Of course I don't just dress for my man. I mean hell, I always want to look good, that's natural, and since I see him almost every day my habits haven't changed that much. I just don't necessarily believe when people say that women dress for other women. It's a straight combo, we dress for ourselves and for those we want to attract.

I hope I actually do look good most days, since I am one of those people who does genuinely care and probably who cares more than she should. But if you think I look like an asshole, do me a favor and keep it to yourself. Fashion is a fantasy, and I like my little vanity bubble.