As you can see this season I opted for a Fashion Weeks month coma; I don’t know if it’s a smart and actually effective solution, maybe it is/was, maybe not, but a passive solution is still better than a painful whatever-happened-last-seasons. That said don’t worry, I tried to be a little more apathetic, the way I am with practically anything else for the record, but in any case in a way or another I followed shows so I will certainly write about them soon, and take those two posts about Jill Stuart and Vera Wang I already did as a little anticipation of what you’ll find soon (by this weekend for sure).
And… so, should I write something about how a girl skipping the season anyway made things a little easier for me?, about what there is between me, her and her… hmm, “special colleague/occasionally coworker/friend”(?), whatever the whole thing is (if you’re thinking about something sexual, ok, you’re definitely right, but let’s not simplify too much, it’s not squalid the way it may seem, I mean, I guess, honestly I’m very confused)?, what’s soon waiting for me in Paris?, yep, I could and better should to give you an idea of the mess my life from some points of view is, but I won’t, maybe one day, not now for sure. No, time for a story somehow more simple (wait: in the conjunctural point I’d like to focus on) but… “but something” I guess.
Subway, good old subway, how many different kind of people do you have the chance to see there? Really a lot, and without proposing a list of more or less funny clichés (even if I have to admit it was an appealing temptation…) if you live or happen to be in one of the major “fashion cities” (whatever it means), let’s say London, Milan, New York or Paris (in a mere alphabetical order) among others, there’s one category you certainly had the opportunity to bump into: alienated models. Sure, there are the confident, the cocky, the cheerfully lively, the sassy, the bitchy ones too, if you know me a little you know I hate bad stereotypes about models but at the same time saying some are among the most funny, smart and interesting people I’ve ever known I underline the fact they’re just like any other person, so all different and each one with her own personality, sure, to travel at certain ages changes you and… but that wasn’t what I was talking about, no, the point was: alienated girls.
Alienated girls, the ones who seem to be miles away and whose eyes are empty as hell; it’s not about feeling awkward or quite uncomfortable, that’s something different, no, in this case I talk about a naturally detached attitude, a cold indifferent apathy, do you have an idea of what I mean?, I hope so (for the record, not that I feel there is the need of any kind of further elucidation: if there is an “anti-attention whore”, that’s what I’m talking about). Btw I already had the opportunity to mention the “dumb men in lust staring at models in the subway (or wherever else) like… pieces of meat?!” category (for the record: that’s not flirting, it’s bothersome and damned annoying), and if that’s such an annoying and stupid thing by itself, even more it is if such an (irritating) attention is turned to girls who are clearly little and even more clearly quite withdrawn, reserved, introvert, a display of graceful, innocent and simply disarming naivety.
Btw I was in the subway (all cities are just the same, I guess it doesn’t make any difference), with a girl, let’s say “my almost-girlfriend”, whatever “my almost-girlfriend” means (hehe I said this story wasn’t simple either)… yep, part of what I wrote in the first part of the post tells you something about that almost, but very briefly: I adore her, and even if I’m very fond of her at the moment -maybe like of no other girl in a very long time- since I’m afraid I might hurt her I’m slowing things a little (wait, let’s say a lot). I mean, I’m not good with words, such as “love” especially, nothing to really care about, but in any case I’m more an hopelessly confused messy whatever-I-am than a bastard, so don’t hurt her and expressing my caring fondness for her always keeping in mind how incredibly fragile she is are definitely my prerogatives. Btw, I’m with this girl, right few seconds before she tried to tell me about home, school, these mad frenzied days, her English is absolutely horrible (hehe REALLY) but fortunately sometimes eyes speak louder than words, she’s such an adorable tender lovely girl, and
she’s not sitting next to me, on my legs, as she usually likes to do (hehe even with plenty of free seats), she’s standing by the sliding doors, suddenly my eyes that were staring at the floor raise a little, her long thin fingers wrapped around the pole, her eyes checking stops, gosh, she’s so adorable, I smile a second, and I see a man staring at her, like… I hated him, really, deeply, and in a second I think of what happens when I’m around the city with these girls, of boys and men staring at them, staring with… I’m not good with words, but “lust” is the first one that comes to my mind, just that. “Lust”, and stupid creepy comments when boys/men are in group, nudging each other, ‘cause you know, if you don’t show how much you’d like to fuck an attractive girl it could seem you’re gay, and that’s a real drama for a lot of guys around.
It happens with everyone, with our neighbors, wife, sister, girlfriend, people most of the times just ignore others’ existences, they just care about what “others are for them”, what they can give, what they represent, so I’m not surprised it happens even more often with models, whatever the category “models” mean. But you know, it seems so easy to talk about models: guys around would like to fuck “models”, for people generally “models” are anorexic, too much skinny, somehow “sick”, ignoring most of the times weight is last of the problems for these girls.
But… yes, guys staring at these girls, I guess they think they’re somehow flirting, but they’re so wrong – they’re just annoying, unnerving and somehow disgusting. The girl is cold as ice, a lot of times seems miles away from there, they should ask themselves “why?”, “where?” (she comes from), “what?” (she’s doing), “how” (her day was, and, why not?, how is it possible her booker either doesn’t give a bleep about it), but no, nothing about her life, travels, the last one to this damn city, from London, and then Paris, and maybe New York again, and finally home, long days, wake up, castings, “No thanks”, sometimes just no, shows, strangers in the backstage, around the catwalk, camera equipped strangers outside, a circus of shots, colors, smiles, “Smile!”, street style shots, street style cheerful pretence, then back to her apartment, her for not much longer, just like her roommates, dear temporary roommates, ephemeral empty smiling friendships, HATFUL OF HOLLOW, and then, right, then how disturbing those annoying attentions are, situations nobody would like for a little cousin, a little sister, even a stranger I guess
a lifeless “model”, and a lot of times even who has to work with them just thinks that; maybe not a programmatic thought, ok, but… I guess it’s generally easier, what the standard caption par excellence looks like, “a model does-this-or-that wearing this-or-that”. Pretty classic. And not that wrong after all, I mean, in that dimension, the bidimensional of a magazine, the working one of a runway, but we talk about something else, a girl in a city, her hurting awkwardness, mine too inasmuch as I love her, and it just kills me to think she has to feel this shit, all this shit, maybe right now you’re reading this too, the creepy stare of a stranger, “not that much” you could think, but