I’m not a diva. I’m not a sex toy. I’m not the girl next door. I’m not the evil witch or the delicate flower you want me to be. None of us are. We just sometimes mindlessly subscribe to already assigned roles. There’s a limit to these roles, of course. There’s always frowning involved when someone tries to assume more than one role. I say: fuck it! Play as many roles you want and at the same time. They’re only thin crusts, most of the time. Respect is never only about words or about how you explicitly define or present yourself. Cut the “finding your true self” bullshit. It’s a fragile illusion that will only get you depressed. There is no true self to be found. Trust Freud on this one.
From time to time I decide not to care anymore. I decide my carelessness to be reflected by the clothes that I wear. It’s the easiest way out. I wear shoes that don’t really fit: white sports shoes with a brown fur coat. Or put on a jacket with wide shoulders that infamously reminds you of your grandma. That’s not my problem anymore. It’s not my responsibility to educate your taste and to make you realize that “grandma style’’ is not actually an insult. I don’t care about setting trends or following them. I admired Björk even more after she had been featured as one of the worst dressed celebrities.
What most of you cannot grasp is the difference between kitsch and consciously chosen kitsch. If I pick something from the Goodwill store, I am usually aware that it is ugly. Still, I buy it. I wear it knowing it will make me look strange or even ridiculous. I still put it on. It does not cease to be ugly. It is not kitsch though. Kitsch is when you buy something ugly; you don’t realize it and wear it proudly – acting as if you’d paid a fortune to look like that. Kitsch is about mindless imitation and inspiration. Kitsch is wearing fake gold accessories and hoping no one will notice. Kitsch is when you buy second hand clothes and hope they look brand new. Kitsch is when you buy Zara and act like you’re in Dior. Kitsch is when you care about the label and wear it on your T-shirt. Kitsch is when you actually wear Dior and you’re not sure why. I don’t know labels and I don’t know designers. I don’t think I want to. I like people who do though, but not those who just act like they know while mumbling something about Paris Fashion Week. Cristina knows designers. Watch and learn. I know I do.
pictures taken by Ion Sterpan