One of my favourite scenes in cinematic history, believe it or not, is from The Devil Wears Prada. The scene involves magazine editor and powerhouse Miranda Priestley decimating her new assistant Andy for flippantly dismissing fashion as frivolous. It’s a fantastic monologue about the power of trends in fashion and it speaks volumes about how we often find ourselves trying something new with our personal style and wondering why.
What the scene also illustrates to me is that no matter how ‘educated’ you might be when it comes to fashion, imagery and advertising – you’re ultimately at the mercy of what the world around you is observing as currently on-trend.
Granted, you can turn your back to the fashion scene and say “I’m doing my own thing!”; but at the end of the day the clothes that you wind up putting your back were ultimately selected for you, from those who are still very much in the scene, from a pile of stuff.
Case in point, this bloody bow tie.
I actively hate bow ties. I thought for about three seconds that I liked them, and in that moment of weakness when the whole “well-dressed-man” revival was at its peak, I bought two of them. Not even real bow ties mind you, cheating bow ties which are already tied and you just have to fasten them on! I don’t even like the way that they look on me, or that whole pseudo-dapper genre of menswear (and men) who wank on about liking whiskey and bringing back chivalry and growing a beard or a mustache! I can’t! I literally cannot – I have no facial hair to grow! However, every once in a while the call of the bow tie wearing, whiskey swilling man-child scene beckons me; and I find myself donning my cheap little maroon bow-tie…