Godammit, I’m Mad!

It’s taken me a long time to gather my courage to address the Tavi Problem.  As her celebrity increases, I keep wondering why nobody brings up the subject of autism.

Aspergers Syndrome is a condition on the autistic spectrum, often characterized by a high IQ and an intense preoccupation with a specialized field of interest. In children, Aspergers can be especially endearing. A young person animated by a passion for learning, even if it’s about vacuum cleaners, is a pleasure to be around. As the mom of a kid who attends a special needs school, I’ve come to recognize signs of Aspergers from a mile off, and I’ve come to appreciate the quirky brainy kids that my son hangs out with.

Tavi strikes me as a kid with Aspergers whose obsession dovetails perfectly with the zeitgeist, i.e. the burgeoning influence of bloggers and the fashion industry’s desperation to appear ‘fresh’ and appeal to new markets.  Her extraordinary knowledge of fashion is mind boggling and she clearly has a prodigious memory for details. Gregory Evans has a similar understanding of vacuum cleaners, a gift that has earned him some notoriety but unfortunately not the same outpouring of love that Tavi has received.

Here is what Rodarte sister Kate Mulleavy says of Tavi: “When spending time with Tavi, I am always astonished by her observations. Tavi is a writer in every sense. Her way of interacting with the world comes from a sensitivity and madness that belongs to poets and bank robbers.”

My goodness! Poets and bank robbers?! I worry that Tavi is the Flavor of the Month, and that when the fashion world grows tired of her it will be a difficult transition. I hope her parents know what they’re doing.

My purpose in this discussion is not to diminish Tavi’s achievement but to suggest that using the term Aspergers Syndrome or even autism would help to dispel the notion that those on the spectrum are retarded or stupid. It would encourage other gifted kids to pursue their interests, full steam ahead.

I’m prepared to be scolded for daring to label everyone’s little darling, who is only thirteen. But it’s a label I use with affection and admiration. I’d like to see more kids and adults identify themselves as being on the spectrum. I’d like to see the end of the stigma that persists. As for the Rodarte sisters, I’m pretty sure they have Aspergers too.

By now, you’ve seen the pictures of Sea of Shoes at the ball. My sister pointed out that Sea’s dress was the only one with sleeves! I’m not sure if that’s the case, but it’s a good observation anyway.

As a public service, I invite you to leave your comment to Jane, since she won’t publish them herself.

I will begin:

OMG Jane, you look like a turtle in this photo! It’s good to see that you need to be photographed from a “good” angle, just like everyone else! Hate the dress but glad you had fun. Love, SW

I was excited about finding a new blog to hate, based on the recommendations of my astute readers. You all know what a hater I am. Although I don’t hate “on” people, as I’ve already made clear.

Anyway, I went to check out the girl who calls herself Gala Darling, only to find to my horror that I couldn’t hate her!

She seems like a ridiculous person, yes. She goes on and on about shit in a wordy but bland manner, and she certainly seems to love herself, a trait that normally enrages me.

But her nose is too big, and that may be where I draw the line.

How can you really work up a good head of hatred for someone when you feel bad about their nose? The only exception is Sarah Jessica Parker, who brandishes that nose around just to spite us.

The big nose is such blight on the Darling girl’s life that she is trying desperately to compensate with a kooky personality and Manic Panic hair color. Her whole persona screams, “I want love and attention without having to get a nose-job!” But as we know, this won’t work.  The nose is there, we see it! Even though Barbara Streisand has an amazing voice, we were bothered by her nose!

I feel I have failed my faithful readers in this unforeseen hatred malfunction. I tried to hate a seemingly worthy target and yet I’m blocked. I did look at her boyfriend though, and I think I can hate him with no trouble.

Let me have another chance! Suggestions?

Today I was at the hospital for 12 hours, waiting for my son’s surgery and then waiting for word about the surgery and then waiting for him to return to his room. The surgery was successful and I am still trying to unwind.

Hospital life is an alternate universe where time is different, people are different, and you start enjoying the hand sanitizer. I’ve gotten so sick of myself and my own story that the sound of someone yelling personal shit into a phone is fascinating beyond belief. I listened to a guy screaming emotionally about obscure family dramas as he paced back and forth, tearing at his hair. I hoped I could lure him into confiding in me before he disappeared down the hall.

Since the hospital Proudly Serves Starbucks, one spends about $15 a day for the relief of having a hot drink to hold when one is kicked out of the ICU for staff changes or Procedures. One soon becomes familiar with all the restrooms, the limited offerings of the gift shop, and the places where one can get a phone signal.

For the fashion-conscious, the hospital is a big wake-up call. I hate the term “wake-up call.” I could have said “eye-opener” but I hate that too, although not with the same intensity. No one dresses with any discernible style at the hospital. In nearly three weeks, I have seen exactly two women wearing Fierce Shoes. One looked like a misplaced prostitute/fashionista, and the other appeared to be a deluded immigrant of some kind. Today in the elevator, however, I saw an old lady (i.e., my age) wearing an embroidered cardigan that I myself purchased last year from the Lucky Jeans store.  The cardigan is dead to me now.

What I’d really like is to slowly re-accustom myself to non-Hospital Life, but that is not going to happen anytime soon.  Maybe I can at least cut down on the coffee but that is even more unlikely.

The weirdest part of all is coming home to my other life, and to my computer. The stuff I paid so much attention to is vaguely absurd, but somehow comforting. I just saw some pictures of Tavi at Fashion Week, dressed like an old lady at a bingo table in Miami. I’m waiting for her to take off that dwarf costume and go “Ha ha, suckers!” Not because she’s too sophisticated to be a kid but because her style is so fucking awful.

That’s it for now.  Who wants to come up with an idea for a contest where the prize is that dead cardigan?

I used to think I had a fairly good command of the English language, but lately I am puzzled by words I thought I knew.

I don’t get the word “um” in its current usage.  Read the following sentence to see what I mean:

Um excuse me, are these not the most ridiculous sunglasses you’ve ever seen?

I am quoting a nice girl named Karla whose blog is very popular. Her readers seem to speak her language. I know she’s saying, “These sunglasses are awesome,” but what’s with the “um?”

Does “um” at the beginning of a sentence mean “wow?” This is a genuine question! Whatever it means in this context, I want it to stop.

If this were a movie instead of a blog, I’d cut to a fantasy sequence.

“Karla? It’s me, I’m at Bloomingdale’s trying on fur crap. Want to hang out?”

“Hi, honey. I’ll be home late tonight. Karla is taking me to this insane gym to help me build up my legs. Bye!”

Every blogger wants to have readers. That’s why we’re here. Me, I want to express myself, and I like to get a response. Otherwise, I’d just keep a journal.

It’s good to follow blogging etiquette. But it’s also good to break free and say whatever you want. Lucky for me, I’ve already said I’m a cunt, so I’m already out of that closet, so to speak.

I’m also on record as not liking certain bloggers and types of bloggers. Most people are more circumspect in their opinions. Now, however, I smell trouble and I love it!

Queen Michelle got lots of her readers stirred up when she implied a lack of respect for another blogger called luxirare.  Naughty Queen Michelle! Now people are all huffy, but most don’t want to have to take a stand one way or the other. Even luxirare jumped in and pretended to be hurt!

I CAN’T STAND luxirare and here’s why: She is too pretentious, her grammar is poor, and she features aggressive photos of singularly nauseating food. It doesn’t help that she mentions her mom’s old Chanel stuff. If your mom owned lots of Chanel, she should have taught you some manners, like don’t boast about your privileged background. (I miss my mom and I miss her crappy cheap handbags too.)

Luxirare can live without me being a fan. She’s got a million sycophantic readers going “OMG you are so amaaaaaaaazing!” and the ultimate fashion-girl accolade, “You are seriously killing it.” As far as I’m concerned, luxirare is a moron with a high end camera. Next!

Wait a minute, while I’m at it, I’m not crazy about Sea of Shoes or her vaunted Mom. If you add up what they spend on shoes, you could bail out General Motors and finance a health care program. There are too many $800 shoes going on, and nothing on their minds except for “Look at me! Can you believe me?!”  I don’t see any accomplishment, I just hear cash registers going Ding!

Now what? Do you secretly hate any blogs? Do you secretly hate me? Let’s hear from you.  If you can’t take a stand on something as harmless as blogger aesthetics, what good are you?!

I have wasted several hours tonight by following links from blog to blog, and here’s the scoop:

There are a ton of blogs that seem dedicated to advancing a style I want to call Clueless Goth. It’s heavy on the black, with lots of chains, studs, torn shit, leather, and the enthusiasts are too young to know it’s all been done before. They will post a photo like the Tragic Fashion Boy above, evoking comments like “fucken sicc.”

Dude, this is so depressing. I don’t know why, it just is. I learned yet again that Chloe Sevigney can do no wrong. Erin Wasson is still popular. Kids who look like they’ve been molested all their lives are featured in pictorials proudly flaunting their tattoos and blabbing about their muses. Lou Doillon is a big deal, even though she looks like a horse.

I don’t want to single out any bloggers in this report, because I can’t work up a good head of hatred for any of them as individuals. They’re more like a social ill or a trend to take note of, from a distance.

After this immersion into the fashion-forward youth culture, I might have a better appreciation of pretentious grown ups.

“Predatory and provocative, these leather shorts feature vertical zipper details. Hidden zipper and hook-and-eye closure at side. Lined.”   By McQ – Alexander McQueen. $755

Maybe with an insanely shredded tshirt and ___________________.

Fill in the rest.

Winner gets an exciting  collection of St. Joseph Picture Books for children!

We all know that Beth Ditto is the new must-have accessory, but now I’m seeing evidence that Fat is the new fake trend in the new fake zeitgeist.

This model, Crystal Renn, is featured in Australian Harper’s Bazaar in a layout that “proves big is beautiful.”

Okay, good. She is indeed a beautiful woman, but this photo seems a little cruel. She looks vulnerable and somehow deformed. I don’t know. The same might be said of anorexics, but still. I’m not buying it.

Now we have American Apparel contributing to “Colossal Clothing” instead of just making their own shit in xxx-large.

Is this part of the New Economy? Will we all be eating junk food to stay alive and/or anesthetize our fear?

Now don’t get all mad at me about this; I’m just observing a trend. It’s not me being all size-ist. I’m as fat as the next person, at least in my mind, where it counts most. Here is a picture of a thrift shop dress I got a few months ago, size 4, and yet a Vision of Waistlessness. I am not yet worthy of hanging out with Kate Moss, but no little wisp of a fashion blogger, either.

Just be glad I didn’t take six different poses of this dress. And don’t tell me how I’m rocking it.

All other arguments are welcome!

I’ve just discovered a fashion blogger that everyone else already knows about, thanks to a newsletter from Refinery 29.

I hated her at Hello. I feel this is a huge faux pas on my part, and yet, there it is. My Hatred Endures, and it never runs out.

The interview with her is harmless, objectively speaking. She is asked questions about her style, and gives answers. She is asked to name 5 pieces that define her daily style. Piece number 2 cinched the deal for me.

“This ridiculously threadbare tie-dyed vintage Grateful Dead shirt. There’s a huge hole in the middle of it that’s literally held together by two stitches, it’s hilarious.”

God. It’s like a knife in my heart. The “ridiculously” hurt, and “it’s hilarious” was agony. I had trouble reading the rest of it. I was too tense to really take it in, but I did flinch at “iconic.”

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I give this girl some slack? She’s probably only 20 years old and who is she hurting (besides me?) It just struck me as the epitome of something that has bugged me from the first time I came upon a fashion blog. It’s kind of a narcissism crossed with a complete lack of inhibition about seeming shallow.

I have posted plenty of photos of myself, so I am hardly blameless. But the idea of dressing up and describing every piece of clothing as though it merited documentation is just horrible on some level. Who the fuck cares where your shoes came from, know what I’m saying? And yet, when I went to the girl’s blog, just to give her a chance to change my mind, a thingy on the page said there were 90 viewers online.

Fashion Girl, you are more than welcome to hate me back. I’m old and mean, for starters. You can just take it from there. It’s not fair for me to pick on you, but maybe it will make you a tiny bit more famous and beloved for all I know. While you’re busy laughing hysterically at your torn t-shirt, I’m sitting here disgustedly in my ill-fitting black Nudie jeans that I got from Tobi.com, with a roll of flab that I got from Having Two Kids.

Fashion has been an obsession for me since I was around 12, and even now I can talk about it forever with my friends who are similarly addicted to it. Yet I’m wondering if there’s a saturation point beyond which the whole subject is just pathetic and awful. OR, maybe I just need to stick to magazines and shopping sites. OR maybe it’s the grim economic news that’s making fashion seem so petty and irrelevant.

Or maybe I just can’t stand this particular girl. Comments or insults, anyone?