walking through the city, soaking up the 60s breeze in february, bumping shoulders with strangers, with some potential addresses in hand yet no set agenda, allowed me time to just think. strolling to soho over some fresh squeezed carrot apple juice brought my mind to a state of settlement, and my reflections are as follows: when all is said and done, fashion is not only an art but a way of life. it can be the crux of first impression identities…it can hold mighty power and an array of affluent influence. but as much as walking masterpieces, breathtaking fabrics, and rejuvenated silhouettes thrill my soul, i consistently find myself leaving this sartorial overload of a week craving simplicity. family. familiar friends. sweet potatoes and kale chips. yoga class. my routine.
to clear my jumbled perceptions, it’s not the colors, the trends, or the exciting experiences that make me wish for an escape, but rather it stems from the internal realization that the foundation of fashion is cyclical; it is not an end. the fact that it is always on the fly makes it oh-so-exhilarating and un-boring, yet makes me need what i know and love to be stable. yes, i go crazy over a good shirt, but a marvelous experience always leaves a much more valuable mark; it’s what makes life so rich. i guess that’s the two sided story. the positive and negative. the catch 22. the beauty and the fleeting fascination. and both sides of the spectrum allow me to adore fashion to the core, keeping in mind the reality of its essence, and embracing what will always be home.
photo: knight cat