Am I Done with The Fashion Industry?

Can We Allow Ourselves To Be Someone Else?

Listen to “For The Guilty” by DIIV while reading.

I avoided this past fashion week like the plague.

Said resolute no’s to lowballed or unpaid jobs euphemized as “good for exposure” if even that, huh? RSVP’d and never showed up to parties where networking would have been a “necessary evil” but I can’t waltz with the devil much.

Attended a friend’s runway show where I ran into someone you could hastily call a “friend” while introducing them to your actual friends as a means for seamless conversation.

That person you see around at events and parties where you gab and share cigarettes and the occasional “deep” conversation but when you sit down and take inventory, do you even know them?

Will they care past this self-masturbatory interaction? Do I care? Is it that deep?

During the retrograde I had a conversation with a young Belgian artist visiting New York for a few weeks about the off-kilter rules of engagement amongst this elk of art / fashion folk. We were at Time Again bar in Lower East Side. That says it all.

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“When you go to talk to people here they don’t even look at you. They look right through you. They’ll nod and say a few indistinguishable platitudes to move you along out of their way.”

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The Europeans lay down sober perspectives adjacent to American’s paradigm. It is a holy communion when someone meets my thoughts precisely where it is short of telepathy. I have Pisces placements, sorry.

Why can these “friends” not hold conversations past a 30 second attention span while their eyes dart around for an exit. Most look as if they might shit their designer pants with a simple, “Hey, how are you?” conversation. Or they’ll be the ones to ask the question but slink half way out the door before you look up to answer.

No, I don’t think we need to catch up. And yes, we probably will not catch up.

Let’s be honest again. This is New York, not LA.

Is the fashion industry ‘Hollywood of the East’?