Man, I was just out at dinner with my girlfriend - I was in a blazer and tee, and she was in her TOJ. I just kept thinking about how I wanted to trade my blazer in for a DR, and how much I needed a black leather jacket back in my life.
I don't think that fire can be quenched, so you needn't have any great fear.
I do think that all of these seemingly disparate interests have - not necessarily the same foundation - but at least a sort of shared consciousnesses of storytelling. The character remains the same, the locale just happens to change on occasion. For example, if I were going to style TOJ's next "collection," it would be set on Hoth with dirt bikes instead of tontons, maybe there's a poker room in the back with a wookie and willy c is running the deck. If I were going to film someone wearing Damir, they'd be half in branded clothing and half in appropriated native garb, walking without rhythm across the desert, or posing with hawks in outer mongolia. I guess I just figure the same person can be all of those people. Or at least, I think they ought to be able to be. I think a lot of that is, as you've mentioned, personal - I've been a lot of places, seen a lot of shit, and have absolutely no desire to stop doing or seeing - and isn't that why we all enjoy fashion, to an extent? For self-expression, or as close to it as we think we can get? I like it when weird things crash into each other; I like the idea of wearing an appropriated military blazer over draped silks and wrap boots; I like fantasy, and I like, as you say, those "instantaneous snapshots" of beautiful things, whether they're part of a wardrobe-mediated storytelling opportunity or whether it's when, Regis, my girlfriend smiles at me across the table at the sushi bar and her teeth are white white white and her biker jacket is black and soft over a printed silk top with swans on it, and she still has in her hair the flower I gave her earlier, even if i can see its bent stem and it's starting to fall out and I long ago lost its mate that I had put in my lapel while we walked.
I appreciate guys who've honed a very specific style, but I don't think I could ever do it. I like too many things, and my curiosity impels me to try new things. So I end up with a larger wardrobe and some divergent ideas, but I like change and I like dressing to my mood. I've been trying to at least keep a common color palette (grays, blues, blacks, tans, whites) so there's some overall coherence.
his pants look way too skinny. Ruins the fit, can't take it seriously. especially going into chucks, which are not bad in and of themselves, but in this fit just make him look like those middle aged dudes who tried to stay hip. And not in a good, Parker-esque way.
i wrote this before in more exhaustive format but removed it and switched to something else after baiting bows
after being disappointed with the overpriced ann bird shirt and some damir basics that seemed indistinguishable from silent ones aside from odd stitching and haphazard hemming that i could have my cousin recreate for me, off i went to AA for the first time (or second, first time in many years at least?!) to get some tanks since i wanted some non-baller basics.
i entered the store, a woman kindly showed me where they were, a second woman offered me the luxury of a vestiaire, and a third then rang it up after offering me a discount.
one of them kept looking and finally said she liked the all gray so i said i was getting the white and black to break up the fits so the first woman chimed in about monochromatic schemes...
then as I walked toward the door a large contingent of muslamic women walked in, i could sense their suspicious looks from behind the large gucci and chanel frames.
as i approached the exit the alarm went off -- they all turned to me immediately in disgust. i went back to the cashier and showed them they had forgotten to remove the security tags.
they started talking to me again, was it a ploy ?! we'll never know...
time to take some scissors to these. but do not tumble dry or they shrink and defeat their purpose.