I’m not sure who started it or how this became such a phenomenon in the 208, but if I see that dorky giraffe-print Dooney & Bourke bag one more time, I will scream. For reference:
The bag and its cheaper knockoff versions first popped up around these parts a few years ago, and women all over this valley have latched onto that thing like an animal-print, leather security blanket. That signature brown-and-white, large-print giraffe motif is like a low-rent version of the Louis Vuitton monogram (or even the Coach ‘C’ insignia). It’s not even so much the bag itself that bothers me as much as what the bag represents: hiding behind a label and calling it style. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve fallen into the label trap myself. It’s the flawed “if it’s expensive/designer/trendy, then I’m tasteful/fashion-forward/current” logic that impedes the creative process that makes fashion such an interesting form of expression. Fashion in any degree of depth, expression, price, etc. is really a matter of a simple, very scientific and tested formula (wink):
sartorial success = f(taste + tailoring)
It’s all about balance and appropriateness. A risk taken at the wrong moment could spell disaster (chunky lucite bangles and architectural heels in the boardroom, for example), but taking a leap of fashion faith from time to time can pay big dividends (or at least I’d like to believe so). Just take the risk! What’s the worst that could happen? Think about it: no one ever became a breakout star by copying someone else look-for-look, move-for-move. Chalk it up to an independent streak with regard to clothing choices that dates back to my elementary school days (note to you parents: let the kids pick out their own outfits for school; it builds character and is hilarious to watch, I promise!), but I think that true style does not necessarily mean having oodles of disposable income to burn on designer-label everything or to own a wardrobe massive enough that one would never wear the same thing twice. It’s about inventiveness and imagination; about mixing it up and calling it your own.
Target wishes and Prada dreams,