…i’m a style editor for a magazine. also, i get eight hours of sleep every night and never feel slightly dizzy when i wake up in the morning. wait, where was i?
oh, at the capsule trade show.
yeah, so anyway, my job is not hard. any editor who says they have a “hard job”, go ahead, cry me a river. it’s busy, sure, and requires alot of maintenance much in the way that having bangs requires maintenance (have i mentioned that i snipped my eyelid the other day instead of the wayward hairs i was trying to trim?) – not unpleasant. i get to touch clothes, alot. and i like touching clothes. is that weird? i like touching things. i mean, i’d touch paintings at the met and moma, too, if i wouldn’t get arrested. the thick smears of ancient oils, taunt canvas, lumps and bumps and planes and….wait, where was i?
oh yeah. capsule.
so i go to capsule (one of how many trade shows this past month?) and touch alot of clothes. my favorites: whit, with wool bubble skirts and bright red cashmere and super light stripey tops. sounds basic, and it is, but it’s great. also: timo weiland. jackets with little fluttery wool pieces on the bottom – as much as wool can be fluttery – so soft and non-itchy in the way good wool should be. and the people working the booth, so nice! so welcoming! such a change from the normal “oooh, ok” i get when i inform booth people i’m not a buyer, simply a lowly media pleeb.
what else? lorick – hitchcockian. and lined in silk! i imagine ruining the lovely silk immediately with some sort of deodorant mishap, but no matter. it feels good. dirty librarian chains, displayed on top peter beste’s true norwegian black metal book. dlc, are you letting me know you’ve been inspired by this? i’m on board. nothing i love more than abbath when he don’t feel like dancing.
samantha pleet, she of the witchy-ish goth-ish jumpsuits, showed wool SHORTIE jumpsuits, like little onesies almost. gimme. and red by wolves shoes kept making me want to say BRED by wolves, which is guess is the point, although if they were truly bred by wolves their price points wouldn’t be so out of the current realm of possibility for me. unless they’re bougie wolves. living in the english countryside. whose fathers were cobblers. have i mentioned how hard i want these winklepickers?
so yeah. now i’m headed down to the corner store for powerball tickets.
l.y.l.a.s, k.i.t!