So it seems that I have completely vanished. Disappeared into the orderly sequal of my new day to day life. Six out of seven days of “fully booked” are indeed a flattering start of the summer but in the midst of all this (and by this I mean, new kinds of potions that I’ve been so curiously discovering, late night curfew that turned into an “early” one and well beyond what I thought the first week of the “official” summer might bring) I can’t help but wonder…
It’s not a big secret that I search the web every single day for new inspiration, new ideal to admire, new trend to doubt and perhaps a new shade for the season to rush and purchase at a bargain’s price (well, aren’t we all…?) but lately, browsing through another polished “editorial” I’ve been everything but- inspired.
What is it that we’re worshiping so religiously exactly? The maticulous skills and the well trained eye of a tiresome retouch master? The impposible work-out regime or the lucratively “pure” diet of the terifically paid model so gracefully portrayed? Or is it the stylist that has decide to “experiment” with unfortunate combinations that will soon be applauded and titled as “fresh”? Perhaps it’s just me, but it seems as though the term “editorial” has become closely associated with absolutely detached from reality, nothing even marely close to what “we”, so sutered by the fashion industry, modern women, really are.
I suppose that my absence can be partially explained by a genuin confusion. This is not, by any means what I signed up for. And it may be that this post is far beyond the “light-hearted” nature associated with blogs, but I simply must, vent out…
To me, FASHION, is grace and elegance, carried on the shoulders of the ones that posses something that no amount of money can purchase- exquisite taste and an eye for fine quality, regardless to whether it lies in an old trunk at a flea market or carefully placed in a glossy bag… If there’s one thing that truly makes me nauseous is false pretenses, pretty wrappers- empty of content, and a part of me is simply tired, or to be more accurate, thirsty- for something real. (And it seems, I am very not alone)
The photo above is an Instagram snap taken by my friend Daniel last week, in one of the best nights out I’ve had for a while… What was I wearing? Vintage pair of pants I got at a yard sale here in New York (for a whole dollar!), a bikini top from a flea market in Israel and a white tank from H&M…
