Saturday, April 3, 2010

like gingerbread crumbs

It's not that I'm obsessed with style blogs. More like they're obsessed with me- at least that's how it feels sometimes as they pop up in my life unexpectedly like those cardboard robbers who spring out up in shooting alleys. I'll be going about my business, preoccupied with deep thoughts about what to cook for dinner and calculating when the next RUSSH is due out when- BAM! Tavi on the left wielding a paper hat! SHAMWOW! A four-page spread on bloggers in marie claire (somehow they made room amongst the articles on Afghani women starting nail salons and the former wives of cult leaders who are reclaiming their lives.)
So it was this week when I was walking home from class past Dangerfield, spiritual home of black t-shirts with pink glitter skulls printed on and all manner of tartan bric-a-brac. And who should be staring out at me from the window but Tavi, in a blatant knock-off of the POP tee.

Weird in the extreme. 
I had to stop and take a dodgy photo with my stupid camera phone which is about as useful as Jermaine's camera-phone on Flight of the Conchords. About as bulky as Jermaine's too. Since when have style blogs been so prominent in pop culture that shops like Dangerfield are ripping them off on t-shirts? I know this is 2010, post-bloggers-at-NYFW and post- Jane-Aldridge-being-invited-by-Vogue-to-attend-the-Bal-du-Crillon and post-you-know-,-like-,-EVERYTHING but I didn't realise style bloggers had tumbled out of the pages of fash mags and brief, surprised articles in newspapers, and into the consciousness of people ripping off style-makers to make a buck.
To use a hackneyed fashion phrase, it's like style bloggers are the new Ramones. And there will rise a core of hardened, bitter fans who will be all like, 'I was reading fashion toast back in the day, man, before Rumi got her modelling contract and everything. And don't get me started on all these noobs who talk about how into Garance Dore they are, man! I was reading her before Tim Sullivan started translating, and I had to Babelfish every post!' Or something.

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