Thursday, November 6, 2014



I stared at this picture.

Wham bam. I  SLAMMED down New York Magazine.

Page after page -- photos -- tiny ones, full-page pictures, thumbnails, -- dresses, hats, shirts, underwear, coats, jewelry and shoes, plus homes, cars, toys, kiddie outfits -- sketches, full color, artistic drawings, wildly unusual, inventive -- vintage, rococo, ultra modern styles juxtaposed -- page after page with everything excessive, overdone, too fancy. It made me ill, sick in my head, it told me how abysmally ignorant I was.

I subscribed to the magazine trying to keep up with trends, planning to subscribe to Sports Illustrated, Esquire, the New Yorker -- not Vogue that's always overloaded with the VERY  latest chic stuff -- I want to write about trends that affect, infect, and inspire us -- blammo -- I'm defeated by the massive potpourri of N O W.

Whose concept created this fat issue of New York Magazine? Someone I should avoid? Or was it a combo of who's-who-ers in London, New York, Paris, and Rome?  The too-muchness of clashing styles, the deliberate outlandishness -- is THAT the TREND?

Oh my God, it is -- yes it is -- everybody wants to feel unique, special, different, and be one of a kind, because it's memorable -- because we're lost in a forest of too many people trying to be unique, because there's too many people!

What about simplicity -- things that are plain, monotone, bland? Is simplicity gone?

What should we wear, when crappy smorgasbord too much-ness is IN?

Aiiii  -- just our birthday suits?

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