It’s finally shifting to Spring. The snows have melted and I finally had my first jog of the year last night (which is why every muscle in my legs has just given up today. Three cheers to my office job and ergonomic chair for picking up the slack). Since talking about the weather is such a Canadian thing to do (which makes sense in this hemisphere. Back in New Zealand our four seasons are relatively indistinguishable, with a variance of maybe 10-15 degrees), I thought I’d get that out of the way. Instead I thought I’d look at what the thawing climate has done to something entirely visible: Fashion.
Fashion in my mind is such a lofty concept, because it’s so far out of reach with my knowledge and experience. I know a few base rules: Match your belt to your shoes. Try to colour match as best you can. Someone told me once that denim was a neutral (and does this extend to the classic Canadian Tuxedo? Gotta be denim to win), so that’s in my arsenal now. Beyond that, I’m out. Still, that doesn’t preclude me from observing as an outsider the metamorphosis occurring whereby people are shedding their sleeping bag coats and showing some skin. So what am I seeing? What do I want to see?
Well leather’s becoming a thing again and I’m on board. There’s just something cool and suave about wrapping yourself in a neat little bovine that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s no doubt some latent librarian fantasy swirling around in my mental retinas, but when I see a cute gal walk by in a leather skirt, I find it hard not to rubberneck. Librarian? Or maybe it’s a cyberpunk thing. I see her and I she’s immersed in an aura of mystery, dark nights lit by neon signage and mischievous tidings ahead. I see the potential for adventure, wrapped in demure casing. Add a pair of grungy Doc Marten stomping boots and (riot) grrrl, you’ve really got me now. If someone’s dressed in a leather jacket, irrespective of gender, I innately mark them down as cooler than me. I don’t know if it’d impress’a Shania much, but I’m not her. Keep it up, Torontonians.
Then again, I’ve got weird things that catch my eye. Perhaps I’m genetically part magpie, but certain items will cause me to force myself not to stare. Headphones. Big headphones (Beats by Dre or Skullcandy notwithstanding) pull me in like a lightning rod. Immediately my brain starts percolating the bands or artists they could be listening to. If we were sitting on a rooftop staring out across the city (clearly we’re leather garbed vigilantes in this fantasy), what kind of playlist would she make? That’s it though, right? I’m just making fantasies in my head about who this random girl on a train is. I don’t know her, but my mind is already creating elaborate scenarios in which we fight crime to a kickin’ soundtrack.
As a corollary to headphones; goggles. I don’t know what it is, but goggles have a gravitational pull on me. Is that the most twee thing I’ve ever admitted on here? Perhaps I’m trying to turn every gal I see into Ramona Flowers or some steampunk siren. Whatever it is, if I’m at a rave and scope a pretty lady with a pair of goggles, my eyes zoom right in. So can goggles be a thing people just wear now? Leave them on your head for all I care, but if you wanted true efficiency you could chuck a couple of sunglass lenses in and wear ’em all through summer. For extra credit, go for some form of non-natural hair colour. Whatever it is, I’m on board. Have I just tried to turn real women into irl anime girls? Gross.
I guess I’ve given ammunition to any fair dames trying to catch out my amorous attention through purely superficial means. Here’s your outfit:
- Head: Coloured hair, steampunk goggles.
- Upper body: Leather jacket. Zipped up.
- Lower body: Leather skirt, Doc Marten stomping boots.
There you have it. I feel like I’ve just objectified some fantasy woman I created in my own mind and now I’m borderline disgusted with myself. How about you just wear what makes you happy? Dress for yourself, not gross people like me. Wear what makes you comfortable and I’m sure that comfort and happiness would be far more endearing than any base thoughts my mind concocts.
Or since we’re in Canada, just don your Canadian Tuxedo. That’d be hilarious.