I detest fashion. At best, it’s an idiot’s guide to looking like other people. At worst, you end up looking like an idiot. Have a look at this fellow:
Featured in the Globe and Mail Style section under the title “Sherlock Holmes Style: The Mystery of the Modern Dandy” he’s wearing an ill fitting suit and woman’s boots. He manages to make plaid look bad: A function previously reserved for Steve Urkel.
When I think of Sherlock Holmes style, I think of injecting a lot of cocaine on the couch while getting into other people’s business. You know, Sherlock Holmes style. I don’t think of Robert Downy Jr. and turtlenecks.
And when I read an article like that (because it was sitting around in the paper at work — I don’t usually read these Toronto rags) I can only congratulate myself on my style timing. It’s fucking supernatural.
Just when every fool in this city will be donning bad versions of this aesthetic, I have abandoned it in favour of a work uniform; thus re-contextualizing my bespoke collection and overcoming the quasi-historical frame, cobbled together from pop culture, that people have so eagerly attempted to pigeon-hole me within, so that they may better reduce me to the level of their ignorance.
Though it will doubtless take some time for people to appreciate what I’m up to and about, my bespoke collection is now a better reflection of complete and efficient simplicity. Just as its always been. It has nothing to do with the old-fashioned, be it Mad Men or Sherlock Holmes, or the popular conceptions of dandyism. Just as it never has. It’s just me and my philosophy.
No doubt, in four years, when the Globe does a piece on “The Workers Uniform: The Toiling Commie Fascist,” featuring people wearing blue uniforms from H&M accessorized with a turtleneck and baseball cap, I’ll once again have to endure the imaginary expertise and insulting approval of the style-raping fashion classes.
But, for now, I feel as if I have dodged yet another bullet. As far as their fashion future goes, I’m quite sure I’ll be as ahead of them then as I am now. It’s easy. After all, they have no ideas except the ones Hollywood gives them.
That’s to say, they just have no ideas.
