Underneath this beautiful tweedy kimono style coat I snagged in Reykjavik, Iceland is another trend on whose bandwagon I totally jumped recently…

Bold Shoulders.

…I’m about two years late. Balmain was shouldering their big ass blazers down the runways back in Autumn 2008, and here I am only now picking up a toddler of a structured shoulder jacket from Forever 21. It’s small enough to not be an eye sore, and also small enough so that in a few years if the style does go out of style, it won’t be so pronounced that I’ll be egregiously out of date. It’s a blazer with character and it nips in my waist and makes it look like I have an ass. Sort of. (Not much can really do that, except for straight up Voldemort Magic, or something.)

The thing about fashion is that if a particular feature or style can prevail longer than two seasons, it becomes less of a current trend–and therefore no longer deemed “trendy”–and more of a longer lasting style statement. It is usually at that point where I adopt the style or further argue that I’m even more over it than ever. For as much as I love clothing in many shapes and forms, I love the idea of never being a trendwhore or being called “trendy” even more. In fact, when someone directs the word at me, I can literally feel my skin crawl.

It’s such a passé word that no longer applies when trying to define someone’s style because the implications of the word have gotten so broad.

It’s like calling me Asian. Sure, I’m Asian, but it’s pretty damn general. Okay…that’s a bad example.

It’s like calling a shoe a shoe. Well, what type of shoe? A heel or boot or sneaker or flat? Is it made of leather, patent? What colour is it? Strappy sandal or wedge? Stiletto or stacked heel? Winter or Spring/Summer? I mean, come on.

With the infinite intricacies and complexities that come together to create the deliciously gorgeous (or functional!) object, you define it by simply calling it a shoe? Poor usage of your words.

Calling someone trendy refers to only the vaguest elements of a person’s style, and doesn’t even describe or enumerate the very things that would paint that person as trendy.

Then there is the other thing… that I equate “trendy” with overly studded, overly liquid legging’d, orange tanorexic, hair teased, Paris Hilton-loving, Ed Hardy/Calf-legging/Ugg Boot wearing, tacky teen who thinks their accumulation of all that is unholy in the fashion world is “stylish.” I hope my description is enough. Like I said, makes my skin crawl.

If there is a take away from all of this rambling, it is that I hate being called trendy, and I hope you would never dare to call me that repugnant word.

{ Outfit architecture: Jacket, Karnivale–Icelandic Designer. Bold shoulder blazer, Forever 21. Shell Belt, vintage. Zebra Skirt, Club Monaco. Tank, Target. Shoes, Go Jane. }

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