"Fashion flogs an ever-receding fantasy that feasts on the lie that if everyone thinks they are ugly, they will spend more to send the ugliness away."


The quote, from this article, sums up everything I never understood about the world of high fashion. I could never comprehend it - why in hellfire do women spend thousands of dollars they often can't afford on a dress or purse or shoes that look no different (at least to me) than the stuff you can find at Payless or Nordstrom's Rack? Yes, I know some of you are cringing right now (*cough*[livejournal.com profile] ravinsky*cough*) but I genuinely can't tell the difference much of the time.

Now I understand it. These items are charms against ugliness. Our belief in their power to change us makes them magic. And because we believe they will transform us, they do.

On the one hand I'm glad I finally understand; on the other hand it makes me sad in a whole new way, and it adds fuel to my loathing of the "beauty" industry. They spend thousands of dollars telling us we're ugly so that we will give them thousands of dollars to make us beautiful. Their very existence relies on hoping that we never wake up and realize just how beautiful we really are.

I will not spend money to send my ugliness away. Partly because I do not have money to spend, partly because I believe ugliness is a necessary thing sometimes... but mostly because I have more power to banish ugliness in one pinkie finger than any thousand-dollar dress has ever had.

I write beautiful things. I draw beautiful things. I make beautiful things - clothing and jewelry and love. Who is going to tell me that my life is incomplete because I don't own a designer dress?

NO ONE.
Jeebus Christ on a pogo stick, I have too much fabric!

You guys, I pack the weirdest shit together when I move.

All this is by way of saying that I wanted to wear my green satin skirt to the concert on Sunday. I cannot in fact FIND my green satin skirt; it isn't in any of my drawers or on any of the hangers in my closet. Since I can't remember actually having seen it since I moved into this house, I started pulling boxes out and going through them.

I found my favorite pair of jeans from high school. I found a box containing candle holders which probably haven't seen daylight since they were packed up to move out of Mum's house. I found a bag of what look like they might possibly be shower curtain rings, but could be something else entirely. I found the remnants of the French maid costume which I completely failed to make. I found several feet of black pleather that I had forgotten I ever owned (but which I now have evil ideas for.) I found a few yards of the fabric I made [livejournal.com profile] luvclarinet's prom dress from. I found a copy of "How To Turn Your Boyfriend Into A Love Slave," which [livejournal.com profile] lossenminuial thought was hilarious when she gave it to me, and which is frankly one hell of a lot funnier now.

I found the scraps of the green satin that were left over from when I made the green satin skirt.

My house now looks like a bomb went off and exploded shredded clothing everywhere.

But I still cannot for the life of me find that green satin skirt.
No T-shirt is worth $50. I don't care what frickin' brand it is.

That said, Affliction makes some of the most beautiful shirts I have ever seen, and my stepdad knows my taste in clothes far too well. *pets prettypretty new T-shirt*
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