That Look By Charlotte Brown
The other night I went on a date and as usual, the process of Q&A ensued. It was all going well, until the question ‘So, what do you want to do in life?’ reared its ugly head. Whenever people ask me this question, without fail, I become tongue-tied and my mind flat-lines.
What do I want to do with my life? I want to work in fashion. What specifically do I want to do? Styling. Instinctively followed by this: ‘You mean you want to dress people?’ This question makes me want to stand up (if sitting), slap them and walk away. Not because they dared to ask me a question but because most of the time the question comes out heavy with supercilious condescension.
There is a cursory look that I have learned to spot, when you know that the conversation will very shortly come to an end. Sometimes I swear I can hear their thoughts…
‘Ooh, well that doesn’t take much brain power does it?’
‘I could do that.’
‘Oh, I can’t talk to her, I am a serious student and must exhibit this by discussing such topics as the neo-liberal state of the British economy over my cider and unwashed socks.’
I have been in debates where my opinion is belittled and all but ignored all because I’m the ‘frivolous and whimsical’ stylist-in-training, I deal in making ‘people look pretty’, ‘playing dress-up’ and even ‘selling women to men, much like meat at the market’. Even my own sister (a painfully talented classical painter studying in Italy) screamed during one particularly heated debate, ‘I am immortal, you are nothing but a fleeting moment!’ (I believe she was referring to the endurance and longevity of certain great works of art we are all familiar with. But then again she really may just think she is immortal, immune to the degenerative and unstoppable disease time.
Returning to the topic at hand, the aforementioned date- a graduate in Theology, both intelligent and articulate was waiting for my reply. Boy told me he had liked me since we first met in July ’09. Stop! People I was hideously drunk at this particular event (an old friends 21st). Entirely oblivious to the male of the species, too busy celebrating birthday girls legality in the U.S.A (never mind that we had no plans to travel there-this was an important landmark to be celebrated with copious amounts of Tequilla.) Safe to say I was neither intellectually stimulating (I don’t remember our first conversation) or remotely charming that night -but then if he had seen me at my worst… things could only get better.
So why then, did I lose all power of speech at his perfectly appropriate query as to what I wanted to do with my life? I think I was afraid of getting the look, and that being that. So in my haste to prove myself less of a Tequilla head more an attractive intellectual equal or you know… at the very least cool (yes I still use that word), I launched into a rambling justification of my chosen path, here’s how it went:
‘Ok, so I want to go into styling, but I don’t want to just ‘dress people’, you know. It’s an art, the body being the canvas, the clothes the paint. Well, anyway you try taking clothes-choosing pieces and putting them together in a way that creates new ‘trends’ that can inspire thousands. Take Rachel Zoe -possibly the most well known stylist at the moment, and her maxi dress mania (at this point one must consider how many boys actually even know what a maxi dress is). She single-handedly brought back a trend that had everyone from the girl in the supermarket to Nicole Ritchie wearing one. Without us stylists creating trends, piecing together, well… pieces (clothing) that shops can then sell [through imagery] to the masses do you think Topshop (I meant the Arcadia group) would have a ?1.6 billion yearly turnover? Do you? Do you? (No pause for his answer) No you don’t!’.
I took a breath and realised the poor boy looked totally bewildered if not a little terrified. Whoops. After replenishing my oxygen supply it occurred to me that it had come to the point where I was now proving the legitimacy of my chosen career path, not only to narrow minded individuals, but to myself!
I have known I want to work in the fashion industry for as long as I can remember. I started interning in early 2008 and will continue to do so whilst working on my degree until 2011. At which point I will hopefully land a badly paid assistant to stylist position, continuing to do jobs that resemble the unpaid work of internships.
Why in hell would I voluntarily submerge myself in an industry that, for most, begins with years of coffee-running, catty competitors, conversation-killing, repetitive and menial assignments (dear God, I have probably bagged about ten thousand ‘returns’ for various PR companies and designers) you ask? Simples (to borrow the epic tag line of one certain meerkat) because I live, breathe and love it.
I can say with certainty, there is nothing I want more -not even children (a seemingly unavoidable biological game of mind control in my opinion, but that is another matter). How many people can say they would happily devote themselves to a poorly paid, over-worked and under valued job? Furthermore, their hobby -what makes them happy at home, is the very same as what makes them happy at work? Only the select few and I’m almost certain a good percentage of those work in fashion.
Fashion is such a diversely engaging topic. It tells a story without the need to say a word. Causes controversy in its association with both the damaging physical and psychological diseases Bulimia and Anorexia nervosa. Fashion retail is one of the most lucrative industries today -made all the more interesting when you consider the others at the top of the money pile, such as pharmaceuticals and the food and drink industry are fundamental to the survival of the human race, fashion is not.
Money doesn’t interest you? How about discussing fair-trade, exploitation and child-labour in under-developed countries with me? Clothing expresses our allegiances (music shirts) social standing (the Queen’s coronation gown to the a priests vestments), occasion (black tie), tradition (white wedding gowns symbolising both purity and chastity) it can even protect (camouflage and bullet proof vests). A fashion editorial can be inspired by anyone or anything; the culture of a particular country, a tribe, group or singular person -the research can be fascinating.
So, however much you think you want to disassociate yourself from the fleeting and frivolous world of fashion, I’m almost certain we could find some common ground if you can hold off giving me that look for just five minutes. Whatever you do though, do not ask me for any advice on first date techniques.
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