Is there a more pointless, vacuous, superficial and completely unecessary “industry” than fashion? I don’t think so but that doesn’t stop it being a billion pound business for selling nothing more than pipe dreams and overpriced tat to gullible fools with more money than sense.
Flicking through GQ and Cosmo recently, the first 12 pages were just full page ads for the likes of Gucci, Armani, Ralph Lauren and a bunch of other half-baked silly-ass fashion houses. Page after page of airbrushed models in ridiculous poses stared out with the same vacant glazed look slapped all over their Chevy Chase whilst wearing what could only be described as clothes you wouldn’t want to be buried in let alone seen wearing in public.
I can’t believe anyone with even a cluster of braincells would look at those ads and think “oh wow, that full length mousy brown trenchcoat with the vertical peephole slits down the side and a tartan collar with matching cuffs looks great, I gotta get me some of that for 900 quid”. Only simpletons, fools, gullible rich bastards and anyone stupid enough to employ the services of a “stylist” are going to be even remotely influenced by what they see in the pages of a glossy magazine and sadly, that’s already far too many people in this celebrity obsessed world we live in where labels and 15 minutes of fame is considered an achievement.
And let’s not forget the models themselves, especially the “look”; stick-thin women with weird facial expressions considered “fresh”, no curves and ribs you could play like a xylophone don’t do it for me and neither do those supposedly “beautiful” ones who are wearing so much make-up that it looks like it’s been plastered on with a butter knife. You should see them without all the slap applied, I see far sexier women on my daily commute to the office.
Speaking of which, models get paid millions to be a clothes horse and nothing else, hardly a hard days honest work or a job that’s remotely difficult. Models contribute precisely zero benefits to the modern world and offer nothing of value that’s actual worth anything. Too hung up about their looks and surrounded by a sycophantic bunch of hangers-on, most models I’ve met are so empty-headed, glassy-eyed, dim-witted and full of themselves that it’s not so much a question of “where’s your personality?” as it is, “can you spell personality?”