Ironic fashion is a lot like candy corn: cheap, kitschy, confusing to most people over the age of 30, deliciously artificial, easy to purchase in bulk, and temporally trendy.
So what happens when you eat too much candy corn? Well... you're probably going to want to brush your teeth.
DO YOU know what I mean??? Probably not. I'm terrible at metaphors. Plus, I'm talking about candy corn and it's not even October so I really need to cool it. BUT, beautiful insects, let me try to explain. Because this shiz is urgent business.
For the last year or so, I have been an eager consumer of ironic fashion. I bought the graphic t-shirts, I wore a sequined sweatshirt, I paired gym shorts with Givenchy, and I lusted after the Charlotte Olympia book clutches. In other words, I drank the effing kool-aid. And, guys, it was FUNZ. Thanks to irony, I was able to wear silk pajamas outside the privacy of my home and call it fashion, and for this I will be forever grateful.
But quite recently, I've had a strong urge to put down the candy corn and brush my teeth. In other words, the BACKLASH has arrived, baby-- at least in my personal brain region. I want to cleanse my palate and by that I mean my wardrobe.
I'm ready to hang up my ironic, Chassidic Jewish man-esque hat and dive, newly unadorned head-first, into cable knit sweaters, tailored outerwear, loafers, peter pan collars, classic button downs, and investment accessories. In conjunction with these new interests, I have unconsciously narrowed down my sartorial color palette of choice to a handful of core neutrals: black, white, gray, cream, navy, and oxblood. Most shockingly of all, I've developed an abrupt and inexplicable urge to wear ballet flats-- despite the fact that I swore off of them circa junior year of high school when the preponderance of Tory Burch Revas on my New England boarding school campus was reaching its peak. Yet here I am, five years later, the subject of my very own self-induced Streisand effect. In banishing the ballet model from my feet, I have inspired and strengthened the subsequent craving. (Hey--remember wedge sneakers?? I decided don't like them anymore! Talk to me in half a decade! LOL!)
I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Most trends and movements--in fashion or elsewhere--are ultimately a reaction to what came before. We humans are a bunch of fickle and repetitive mofos, which is why our current mode of subversiveness can often look pretty familiar. In the end, cutting edge is another way of saying the opposite of what you'd expect as of somewhat recently, and that's why even a pair of conservative shoes can suddenly be so damn exciting.
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