Godammit, I’m Mad!

Stylist Simon Rasmussen showed his first fashion collection at Copenhagen Fashion Week and it looks like those homelessistas are again the muse du jour.

Is it already passe? Has Erin Wasson ruined it before it even got a chance to catch on? Or is it a dumbed down retread of Fruits?

I’m lost here. I’m not even entirely over the leather shorts. Autumn is coming and I don’t know whether to wear nude, military, retro, dead animals, clog boots, ponchos, pantsuits, or “Victorian  Biker” (a new term I heard for the first time today and cannot help but promote (i.e. ridicule.)

On the bright side, today my husband curated me a long black cashmere overcoat from our neighborhood thrift shop and I will be wearing it asap. I will call it Geriatric Goth but it will also be kind of Hasidic Swashbuckler. You’ll see, after I replace the missing button.

This Hermes Birkin bag is available at 1st dibs for $85,000. Can we figure out why?

You could get this pink one for only $65,ooo.  That’s a whopping savings of $20,ooo. But maybe you’d feel like a cheapskate if you bought the pink one.  Why quibble about $20,000 when you’re shopping at this level? Grey Himalayan Crocodile says you really care. It says “Classy!”

But!

You could have this blue one for only $12,500! With your savings, you could buy a luxury car or feed all the orphans in Haiti. But now the blue one looks like crap, right? Who wants a crap Birkin bag?

I’d love to hear women justifying the purchase of a Birkin bag, or any bag that telegraphs wealth. “It’s so iconic!” “It’s an investment!” “I’ve always wanted one!”

The only honest explanation is that some consumer goods signify status to other consumers. Other women will admire and envy your wealth, or so you think.

How much of an asshole do you have to be to buy one of these stupid bags?!? It’s almost unfathomable. The only people who would be impressed would be other assholes. If Louis Vuitton made bags that didn’t look like Louis Vuitton bags, would anyone buy them?

From now on, when you see someone wearing anything with a big, high-end logo, point at them and laugh, “HAHAHA, Chanel!” (or Prada, YSL, Dior, whatever.)

Sister Wolf Says:  Even a tiny act of subversiveness can brighten your day.

The only good thing about buying expensive shit is that you can sometimes recoup some of your wasted money on ebay.

Look at this Kate Moss ‘Groupie Coat!’ Why did I buy it from Topshop? Because I’m stupid, that’s why. I imagined myself as a 20 year old living in a cold climate, walking around like a big Yeti, looking insanely rad. Now, it’s on ebay.

Why did I buy this Marc Jacobs sequin thing? Because I’m so stupid that I must have pictured myself going somewhere and impressing people with my glam fashion sense. I haven’t worn it once, just like the Groupie Coat. A complete waste of time and money. For sale on ebay.

Ooh, what about these Paul Smith “Kings” biker boots. Wearing them would prove how moto, how tough-chic and just plain killing it I am. So what that I already had a million pairs of biker boots. Soon to be on ebay, and I’ll only get a fraction of the purchase price.

I have been out of work for nearly a year. What I’ve learned is that I am a big idiot who spent money as fast as I could, because I’d never made so much of it.  Every story I wrote brought me $500, so a pair of boots equalled only one story.  I forgot to worry about the future, or the people starving in Africa. My shame and my unpaid bills aren’t punishment enough for being so stupid.

However. While at ebay, I treated my self to a look at Mom’s recent purchases, and I was reassured to find that, yes, someone else is stupid, too! Join me in weighing up the stupidity.

This massive anchor pendent was $295 plus shipping. Gargantuan, isn’t it? I think size is key, for Mom. At least it isn’t a monkey or cockroach.

Now we’re talking! Pre-owned Prada open-toed boots, just $199 plus shipping. Are these for Sea or Mom? Would they wear these if they didn’t say “Prada?” I’m already feeling a little less stupid, but what do I know.

Another bold statement piece of junk jewelry for Mom, $85 plus shipping. Nice and big, even “glitzy” I would say. There are many, many more acquisitions of this nature that you can look for at Mom’s shop or perhaps adorning herself or Sea.

The thing about shopping and hoarding is that it distracts one from the void, from oneself, from the horror of the human condition but in the end it fools no one. In the end, you’re just an idiot with too much crap that no one wants, not even you.

But at least my crap is good crap.

If you don’t live in Los Angeles, you may not be familiar with Fred Segal, a retail establishment frequented by pop stars and wealthy anorexics. Long ago, I realized that Fred Segal is in league with Satan. But yesterday, I forgot.

Feeling bored and oppressed by existential malaise, I went to Fred Segal to look at earrings. I have been fixated on the idea of gold safety pin earrings and I knew Fred Segal would have some. It’s a knowledge based on the type of people who shop there and a dark intuition fostered by Satan Himself.

So there I was, in the full glory of unemployment, when the salesgirl said, “Yes, we do have gold saftey pin earrings!” She produced five pairs of earrings, one covered in tiny emeralds.  I tried on one earring and thought, Okay, got to have them.

I handed my credit card to the salesgirl, my heart pounding with excitement and guilt. The voices in my head argued about the purchase, with the Addict Voice taking the lead. “So what if you can’t afford them, so what!”

The salesgirl was having trouble with her computer. It wouldn’t recognize my card or anything else. She apologized and decided to reboot the computer.

As I waited, I felt the sense of deranged lust for the earrings start to wane. I could already predict the remorse. Maybe I didn’t even need to buy them. I told the salesgirl while she struggled, “If this goes on much longer, I will take it as a message from god that I don’t need these earrings.” She laughed and said, “No, it’s just a message from this computer, don’t worry, I’ll get it to work.”

She called a supervisor who tried to give her directions over the phone. Now I was sure: I didn’t give a shit about the earrings! Life would go on without them. In fact, life would be much, much better without them!

I reached over and grabbed my credit card and said. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go now. Too bad it didn’t work out.”

I marched out of there as fast as my wonky hip would allow, dizzy with the joy of missing a bullet. God was stronger than Satan and I owe Him one. If he would hide my fucking credit card, so much the better.

I love the shopping site Farfetch as much as the next man, but I was not happy with today’s feature, a lesson on How to Wear Double Denim.

First of all, I don’t want the term “double denim.” Take it away! Who made it up, anyway? Is it The Gap? WendyB discussed the wearing of double denim a few weeks ago. Most of her readers seemed to feel, Yes, I’m into it.  I personally didn’t like the examples she showed but then I forgot about it. Now I see it’s a bona fide fashion Problem.

If you need to ask how to wear double denim, you should just give up. Don’t wear anything. Stay home in bed. How hard is wearing denim for fuck sake?!

Farfetch shows us three ways to “pull if off.” This is perilously close to “getting it right.” It’s so dogmatic! Who is to decide whether you pulled it off, besides the Satorialist?

The looks devised by Farfetched seem completely arbitrary but they are given categories, because People like categories. There is Tough, Pale and Preppy. Preppy is a silly Tom Sawyer costume, Pale is kind of Pseudo French Girl, and Tough is sexy because it’s modeled by Abby Lee Kershaw, a young goddess. There are all sorts of bossy rules involved in each look.

Now I’m feeling really bad about double denim. I don’t think I normally wear jeans with anything else denim, but whatever, it’s dead to me now.

HOWEVER! I just went to Macy’s to get my kid a shirt and in the men’s department they had skin tight skinny cut Levi’s in bright colors like turquoise and red, for only $59. I would wear red Levi’s with a denim jacket. But not now. I’m too stubborn, and I don’t have $59.

Ann Demuelemeester  $1,225.00

Dolce Vita $175.00

Chloe Sevigny – Opening Ceremony $650.00

~

God, when will these shoes go away? Who’s stupid enough to buy obtain the Ann D. version?

Let’s all admit it: We want this dress from Alice by Alice Temperley.

If only I could curate it! Shit.

…who buys this crocodile “tail coat” jacket by Balmain, for $74,000.  Who will it be? Beyonce? Rihanna?

Someone will turn up wearing this, right? It’s fierce, killing it, bla bla bla.

Look at this bingo card I made here.  If you’re looking at a fashion website or blog and you see any 5 words in a row, you can yell “BINGO!”

Oh god, it’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it. Here is Sea, modeling one of the hideous new pieces of jewelry that she and Mom have recently “acquired.” Funnily enough, Sea wears the giant monstrosity with an Incredible Vintage Chanel Jacket that Mom “found” on eBay.

Don’t make me show you the other monstosities pieces that Sea and Mom have “obtained” by the same designer. They are all gigantic and garish: a squid, a baboon, and a bunch of other stuff you would gladly pass up at a yard sale. A quick look at the designer’s website reveals that these items go for $500 and up.

Would you like to leave Sea a comment? Me first:

Dear Sea, You and Mom need to stop this compulsive “curating” of shoes and accessories.  Could you at least not brag about it while I’m trying to watch people die in Haiti? I think you have lost your way. Bigger isn’t better, it’s just bigger. Meanwhile, here are some other words you might like – procure, appropriate, harvest, reap, and attain. Love, SW

For the first time in months, I went out to shop today! My BF took us to Neiman Marcus, where we saw LaToya Jackson in the men’s department wearing a red Santa hat and sporting a bubble butt that jiggled wildly but still looked fake.

In the shoe department, the sale racks were overflowing with eye-popping high-end monstrosities by the usual designers.  I thought it would be nice to try on some $1,500 alligator wedges. I would rather die than try to walk in shoes like this, since I clearly have trouble walking in flat athletic shoes.

I was transfixed by an awful woman trying on some high suede boots. She modeled them in different positions as though trying out for a contest of some kind. Her legs were as thin as my arms but her lips were inflated enough to save at least half of the passengers on the Titanic. I hope she bought the boots.

Upstairs in the clothing department, a woman who looked like Terry Hatcher kissed up to a woman with awful frizzy red hair, who revealed that she was up for a directing award. Terry gushed that she always saw Frizzy on Facebook, but Frizzy insisted that she rarely logged in.

It was a joyous day, and I achieved a dizzying level of shopping-endorphins without having to spend any money. Like any addict, I can’t wait to do it again.

leather jacket by Gar-de, ill-fitting old jeans by Wrangler, blue shoes by Adidas, Chanel bag, cane from Rite-Aid.