Discipline and Fancy

Photographer: Alex John Beck
Model: Anna Ratchford
Styling: Me.

Tangent:
The idea of personal style as a kind of uniform has become so increasingly interesting to me, especially the more I learn about the industry of aesthetics, fashion, and publishing. We go back and forth between novelty, newness, rage and classics, timelessness, enduring meaning. We talk about—and sell—archetypes. The person who likes this. The person who wears this. We herald women with amazing personal style and then they just become the new archetypes and its nauseatingly oversaturated. Muses and the like, feels fresh for only so long (probably because of the internet). Working where I work and consuming the kind of media I consume, I’m inundated with so much newness and classification, it’s kind of overwhelming.

It’s something that I often talk about with my friends (those who can tolerate me when I get esoteric about fashion). Dressing to whims and feelings and different ideas of myself has long been something I’ve believed in. I’ve always approached getting dressed as adventure-full and wonderful and unlimited and employing inspiration wherever I’ve found it. Having had the quality of being able to ‘pull something off’ was a huge point of pride.

For some reason that feels wrong now. Not wrong, just kind of empty. Before, the idea of narrowing anything down or restricting myself was totally anathema. Maybe now, its because I’m trying to figure out what’s next for me (and I’m taking it out on my wardrobe, which is something I do). Maybe because I’m getting older and the piling of responsibility—both professional and personal—makes me less inclined to run around trying to keep up with TopShop production schedules (bills are bitches when they’re for uninteresting things like gas and mortgage and internet usage). It’s not that I don’t feel that I can get away with dressing like Bianca Jagger one night and Oliver Twist the next. Because for the most part I can. It’s that a part of me, for the first time, is feeling like restraint, and editing down my taste, is somehow more important. Figuring out what works for me and not giving in to capricious whims--not to be rigid, but because of an understanding that they’re kind of pointless. Cathy Horyn talks a lot about the implications of the recession, in ways fantastically more articulate than I. But basically, I don’t want to be the person who wants everything. I want to be exacting.

Styling for me is a huge release because I can enact my sartorial fantasies on someone else. It has alleviated a lot of my desire to ‘pull things off.’ But I think a woman—outside of photographs and editorials—should look smart. And so much of that, so much of taste, is knowing what is integral and what is excess. But mostly, I think personal style should be disarming and decidedly intentional—even if it is the most “effortless” look in the world. Because what’s more effortless than putting on a uniform?

Ophelia

Things I'm liking right now

This Article (thanks AJB) from the New York Times about why we go to museums and what is it that we're looking for.
"Slow looking, like slow cooking, may yet become the new radical chic."

This portrait of Cy Twombly by Todd Eberle from VF's Best Dressed List



These picture I took of Lykke Li, who is a flat-out amazing performer, knocked me out. Not the picture as much as her insouciance, skill, and amazing ruffle coat. Find her cover of lil Wayne's "A Milli" on youtube and prepare to be blown away.





And my Industrial Zipper bracelet, made for me by Tay Trong, Freelance Cosmonaut.







And also my wonderful friends at McTega who sent me their delectable necklaces for a shoot. They used to work for Rodarte and then started this amazing jewelry line (and soon to be clothing line!) I only wish I could hang them everywhere in my apartment so i could see the light reflecting crayola colors, everywhere i looked...And though its hard to tell from the picture, the bottom necklace has spikes, like emerging shards of glass, that could veritably impale. Aka, perfect.

Hit em with a Pow

"The rule was we only stayed 20 minutes at any place. You could never be who you were you hadto be someone else. Hit 'em with a pow and then leave em hanging."- Janet



Janet is a former Napa Auto Body Parts Model, Playboy bunny, China Club dancer, mob-marrier, and fantastic consignment maven. I want to write her life story and listen to her talk for hours. She reminds me of everything we wished still existed from Jay McInerney's New York. Is that so wrong?

Speed of Sound

Coldplay is one of the most surprisingly antagonized and berated bands out there,and I've come to the conclusion that it's for their particular lack of irony and general emotional accessibility. In other words, Pop music. Larger-than-life, Starbucks-embraced pop music. Which is not how they began.

I'm not going to lie--i pull the "i only like Parachutes" and would probably fall out of my chair if someone told me today that Coldplay was their favorite band--i'd question their emotional depth and interpersonal skills. But I think I'm ready to like them again and trash these associations. I'm so over disaffection, particularly with music. Don't you want it to pulse through you? Don't you want to feel it and be proud and move and not just stand there tapping one foot while the rest of your body is stationary?

Coldplay is a perfect example of how you lose the kernel of personal connection and satisfaction when something becomes so mass-market (the same is true for clothes, by the way--trends, designers--I'm kind of grossed out with what's happened to Wang, and don't get me started on TopShop). Maybe it's particular to internet culture 2.0, and how we fiercely carve identities for ourselves out of newness and in opposition to everyone else. We simply cannot be the kind of person we associate with liking __X___. And that's really sad. And I'm not even talking 'guilty pleasures,' I'm talking Sincerity.

I think the tragic passing of Michael Jackson and the acute pain we all felt (as so UNBELIEVABLY memorialized by Luxirare) made it explicitly clear that it's okay to reclaim these personal relationships with Pop. I mean, who could've been showier, cheesier, more accessible, more commercial (schilling pepsi and disney) than Michael? Coldplay is not in the realm of Michael's legend, but their performance and naivete really worked for me. They gave a great show and covered me with tissue-paper butterflies, which stuck to my muddy toes like a pinata.