Kids in the seventies were no strangers to creation through destruction. Currently, the fashion renegades of today are familiarising themselves with that D.I.Y. punk notion, only this time, it’s personal. With vicious snags and rotten rips, tights must have done something to really piss us off.
When trying to suss out what contributes to the sharp, fresh and individual sense of style celebrated around the clock on street style blogs and websites, contradiction is a concept most definitely being played with. Think about it; it is not the Billy Idol imitator or the Katherine Hepburn copycat that we admire when they strut past us down Brick Lane. Oh no. His or her style tributes reek with sad obsession taken too far- nobody wants to be anyone’s biggest fan. The sharpest tools in the style shed have carefully- or to those lucky few, subconsciously- cherry-picked from a variety of wild and wonderful style influences to create the kind of cracking ensemble that makes fashion-conscious observers struggle to refrain from applause.
It would seem, it is these cherry pickers that have all simultaneously cottoned-on to the too cool for school appeal of fucking up your tights. Rather astutely, the scruffy-as tights seem to be a popular antidote for avoiding looking ‘too done up’, which, as we all know, is a definite style no-no when it’s all about being stylish “effortlessly”. On a more practical note, the really bitching thing about this trend is being able to effortlessly co-exist with your drunk, and stupidly affectionate smoker friends without worrying about another pair of tights ending up in the sodding bin. Burn baby burn. Mwahahaha.
So kids remember, the next time you look in the mirror and a flat outfit twiddles its thumbs back at you, just sharpen your claws and let rip.
at 19:54 Posted by Kharas