|A Philip Treacy crystallized lobster headpiece |
worn by Lady Gaga, aka the Queen.
Over the weekend, one of my family members contacted me and told me that, amongst other things, I am too preoccupied with fashion and celebrities to ever make it in the real world. That I should focus on preparing myself for what a role that fits in with society rather than standing out. In their view, I’m apparently not mature enough to ever make a name for myself because I distance myself from reality and choose to live in my imagination. Fashion is the fuel that powers the world of fantasy in my head-- that’s an obvious fact of my life. But their words were said as an insult, as if my passion and devotion to fashion is a problem. I will admit, I was quite upset over their comment. But I picked myself up, got over it, and am finding the positivity in this minor blow to my character.
The first bit of positivity that comes from this is that it must mean I’m not boring. The fact that my mere existence and interests are enough to infuriate people who have never even been a huge part of my life gives me a sense of satisfaction. I don’t know why my life bothers them, but it tells me that I am doing something right. I find that the best people in this world are the ones who don’t follow the rules society puts upon them. The ones who aren’t afraid to be different and the ones who have the courage to express themselves however they choose.
The second reason as to why this situation is positive is because it has paved the way for my blog post this week! Since some people seem to think I’m too preoccupied with fashion and celebrities, I’m going to talk about just that and then take it to the next level by going into detail the ensembles I’d wear if I were in the public eye.
I’ve always said that if I were a celebrity, I’d be put on a worst dressed list every single day of my life. From the criticism in magazines to the comical comments from Joan Rivers on Fashion Police, there’s no doubt in my mind that the eccentricity of my being would go far beyond the realm of what’s considered accepted attire in today’s society.
Since I’m putting myself in this hypothetical celebrity situation; let’s assume I’d have quite an attractive bank account. And with the excitement of my wallet, I would spend every dollar on the creation that is my own personal style. The amount of makeup, clothes, wigs, and accessories I’d own would turn every day into a costume party. My entire life would be a David Bowie themed runway show-- an ongoing exotic adventure in my own little world of fairies, rainbows, and graveyards. Not many people would understand, but they wouldn’t have to. Sometimes the beauty of it all if knowing that there are people who don’t understand. They’re not worthy of having you in their lives, and their toxic energy is not welcome.
I’d wear sparkly crowns, yellow feathers, glue rhinestones to my face, and walk around with an entourage of fellow freaks and misfits.
I would devote an entire room in my house to my collection of neon wigs, my collection of shoes, and my collection of Galliano pieces.
The hats I’d decorate my head with would make the sights seen at the royal wedding seem like no big deal. My various headpieces would make it difficult to fit through doorways, but that’s a challenge I’d be willing to tackle.
My eyes would be shielded by Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses whenever I venture indoors, because I find people who wear shades inside to be the coolest and most interesting kinds of rebels in the world.
I would wear haute couture every single day, and the fashion would become so intense that people wouldn’t know whether or not if my ensembles connoted high end couture or homelessness.
But what would I actually be famous for? Being a superhero? A supermodel? A superfreak? All of the above? If you’ve been following my posts, you may feel the need to suggest the idea of me appearing on what would be the most watched episode of Hoarders of all time: My problem of “Hoarding Perfume like a French Whore” is bound to one day spin out of control, thus thrusting me into the spotlight for my fifteen minutes of shameful reality show induced fame and fortune. Or maybe I’ll end up doing what every girl dreams of doing; marrying a rock star who is twice my age. My vibrant marriage and odd demeanor will be enough to put me at the level of importance for appearing on fashion lists.
I would look like a cross between Thumbelina, Morticia Addams, and the mother in the film Matilda. I would be the most intriguing mess of fashion of all time. The western world would probably not be able to handle it. People will start rioting on the streets because they’ll be painfully confused and won’t know how else to deal with their emotions.
I don’t know where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing in the future, but I’m positive that my love of fashion will only intensify. I’m excited to see how my style progresses as time goes by, as evolution on all levels is an essential part life. The extremely pathetic amount of dollars right now in my bank account already goes towards purchasing all aspects of fashion, so I can only imagine how exciting my life would be if I had the funds to expand my empire of style.
But no matter if I become ridiculously rich and famous or am living alone in the middle of a forest during a cold winter in Germany, fashion will always be a part of me. No one has the right to ever make you feel bad about yourself, or tell you what you’re doing with your life is wrong. As cliché as it sounds, there are always going to be people who try and bring you down. I guess I’ve never truly understood what that meant until now. We are all perfect the way we are, and we need to embrace our individuality. If anyone has a problem with that, cover yourself in epic amounts of glitter to the point in which the sparkle is so powerful that it defeats all those who try and ruin you.